


Dragonblood

by soulfulsin



Series: Dragons [4]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/F, F/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-01-25 22:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: After Magica de Spell and Gladstone Gander break off their nascent Bond, the magical backlash threatens to swallow their world. It's up to Lena, Webby, and Dewey to put a stop to the corruption spreading.Meanwhile, Huey and Violet are stranded far from home thanks to magical fluctuations and find themselves in a strange land.
Relationships: Della Duck/Penumbra, Dewey Duck & Lena (Disney: DuckTales), Dewey Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Huey Duck & Violet Sabrewing, Lena (Disney: DuckTales) & Webby Vanderquack, Scrooge McDuck & "Glittering" Goldie O'Gilt
Series: Dragons [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372387
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cool name, no? XD Anyway, this is the latest in my Dragonburg series. Most of this was written during NaNoWriMo sprint sessions, which I hate doing, but tend to be productive. They also tend to make my posts wordy asf, just to warn you.

Lena stood, stunned, with Dewey and Webby at her side. They had to complete their Bonding still, culminating in the final Flight. Now that Dewey had fully recovered from Doofus’s attack and they no longer had to worry about Magica, they should have set off, with one of them playing “it” and attempting to catch the others. They had intended to start near the bridge by the Audubon Bridge between Dragonburg and St. Canard. However...the forest beyond was not only dead but corrupted, dark magic weighing on their chests and leaving a bad taste in Lena’s mouth. 

When they heard that Gladstone’s repudiation of Magica had caused widespread corruption, Lena had at first been somewhat skeptical. Not of Gladstone rejecting her, because she’d seen that coming a mile away. No, she couldn’t believe that one broken Bond could lead to such destruction. But although the bridge was intact, she could detect no magic beyond it. It wasn’t even like it was empty, but it was magically void, like walking into the equivalent of a black hole. 

Once verdant grass was dead. Though people still scurried about St. Canard, from what Lena could see across the bridge, they looked harried and stressed. Unconsciously, she reached out for her Bondeds’ hands and held them. 

“We need to fix this,” Lena said and groaned. “Why, Aunt Magica, why do you have to ruin _everything_?”

Magica de Spell wasn’t even sane anymore, and she still managed to wreck Lena’s life. It was amazing the staying power that sorceress had. It’d be impressive if it weren’t so disturbing. A sense of hopelessness swamped her, and she wasn’t sure whether it was the magical corruption or her fears that this would never end. She’d be forever trapped by Magica’s machinations or the results of them. Try as she might, she would never be free.

Webby squeezed her hand. “We’ll Fly elsewhere. We have to finish this--it’ll end up being unstable if we don’t.”

Lena’s lips twitched. There was a certain irony in Webby lecturing Lena about magic. Still, she was right. With effort, she wrenched her gaze away from St. Canard. Once the Bond was fully realized, they would share the magic and be able to effect change. They had their work cut out for them. No time for a honeymoon, not until this was all over.

Lena drew a deep, bracing breath.

“We’re here for you,” Dewey said. “No matter what.”

“Maybe while we’re flying around, we can poke at my aunt,” Lena said, injecting joviality where there was none. “She’s insane now, after all. Not like she deserved anything less.”

“I’m worried about Uncle Gladstone,” Dewey said. “I mean, according to what Huey said, broken Bonds usually result in death or insanity. Magica’s insane, but no one’s heard from Uncle Gladstone. There’s no third option. Death or insanity.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Don’t think too hard about it, blue.”

“All because my uncle wanted to save her,” Dewey huffed.

Lena released their hands to hug herself. “You realize this is all _my _fault, right? That everything happened as a direct result of her attacking me and my failure to procure the elixir?”

“It’s not your fault,” Webby soothed, cupping Lena’s face in her hands. “Sssh. You aren’t evil like your aunt. Magica brought all of it down on herself for attempting that spell that turned your father into a crow in the first place. It’s not your fault. Sssh.”

“If I had brought Aunt Magica the elixir--” Lena continued, undeterred. She stopped herself. “Then she wouldn’t have any further use for me.”

She shuddered, chilled from within. Webby wrapped her arms around her, and she hugged her back. Dewey leaned against Lena. Magica would have killed her. It was a simple fact of life like water is wet or the sky is blue. Magica had never intended to let her niece survive her plots.

“I know it’s bad to say, but I’m glad everything worked out as it did,” Webby said and brushed her lips against Lena’s. “I’m glad to have you and Dewey.”

She kissed her, and Lena hugged her tighter, kissing her back. As always, her heart skipped a beat when Webby kissed her, and she didn’t feel worthy of her. Webby stroked her cheek, and Lena almost felt like she might melt into the ground. She loved her so much. It might’ve been worrying if she didn’t know Webby loved her too, even though Lena thought her affection for Webby went deeper than Webby’s did for her.

As if in direct contradiction to those thoughts, Webby deepened the kiss, and Lena moaned, embarrassed by how much she wanted her. 

((We’re not having the Flight right here, are we?)) Dewey interjected, and, flushing, Lena broke off the kiss. Her whole body tingled, and she kissed Webby’s neck. Webby turned and kissed her again on the lips. They were ignoring Dewey, which was rude. 

((We’re not,)) Webby reassured Dewey. ((But we need to consummate the Bond again with a special ceremony for Lena and me. Then we can Fly.))

It was tough to consummate a female/female relationship in dragon form, as it required specific nimble movements.

((But we should go back to McDragon Manor now,)) Webby said and broke off the kiss. Standing on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against Lena’s forehead. The more they denied the Bond, the stronger the compulsion grew. Lena assumed that eventually, she’d stop feeling the need to touch Dewey and Webby quite so often, but as the Bond was only half consummated, it craved completion. 

Webby kissed Dewey next, and Lena told herself she wasn’t jealous. They were a group. They needed time to work as a unit. Dewey scooped Webby up and held her tightly to him. Lena remembered thinking that Dewey and Webby would be happier together than with Lena as a third wheel. She kept such thoughts to herself.

Then Dewey, who was closer to Webby’s height and thus, made his kissing her less of a surprise than he’d intended, broke off the kiss with Webby to embrace Lena. Webby was playing with Lena’s floof, and Lena smiled. 

All right, fine, they’d worn her down. 

((All right, let’s go back to McDragon Manor,)) Lena said and then stifled a groan. ((And try to avoid Scrooge and Goldie. They’re being obnoxious.))

They weren’t fully Bonded either, but that was only a matter of time. They were still snapping at each other, but every barbed comment also seemed to contain sexual innuendo. It was gross, and even though Lena wasn’t technically related to the family, she felt terrible for everyone who kept walking in on them, herself included.

They shifted back into dragons, and Webby intertwined her tail with Lena’s. She grinned at her, and Lena melted inside. Dewey was likewise smiling at Lena. She felt so loved, so wanted. It was no wonder that she’d fallen so hard for Webby. Webby was the first person in her life that had wanted her for her, not as a tool. And Dewey had welcomed her too. Maybe things weren’t quite equal yet, but they would be.

((I love you,)) Webby said to both of them. Lena grinned shyly back.

((I love you too, pink. Blue. Now, let’s get back before this blighted area gets to us.))

There was no doubt that without the magical emergency barrier erected about Dragonburg, it would have contaminated the city and led to widespread panic. As it was, people were beginning to worry. The oligarchs were trying to keep things together, and so far, it was working, but it was a stopgap measure. 

Their magical signatures permitted them to access the barrier and penetrate it. Otherwise, they’d be stuck outside. People had to have visas to get in and out now if they weren’t born in Dragonburg. They were afraid of contamination spreading through the city. 

It felt cleansing to fly through, and Lena cast one last glance behind her. She was not looking forward to getting back out there, but at least the next part should be fun. 

* * *

  
  
They landed in McDragon Manor’s quad and glanced around. Huey was off with Violet, and Louie was probably running another con. Webby shifted back into her humanoid form and grinned at Lena. It looked like Calente and Fenton had left the instructions for the full Consummation in Webby’s room, and she was eager to complete them. They wouldn’t want to leave Dewey out, either, although it couldn’t be fully Consummated with him until the Flight. 

Webby pulled Lena into her room and rubbed her shoulders. Lena was nervous but not as bad as she’d been before the first Consummation. Now she knew that Webby loved her and wanted to be with her. There would be no worries about it not being reciprocated by either of them. Lena’s nervousness was of a different variety--she didn’t know what the full Consummation would bring, despite having studied magic. 

Well, okay, perhaps “studied” was the wrong term. Lena had tuned out much of her aunt’s “lessons.” Webby didn’t blame her--she wouldn’t have been paying much attention either if her relative had been mentally attacking her at the time too. Then again, she would’ve thrashed her, had thrashed Magica, but it was Magica who had done herself in.

“So...when do we Fly, anyway?” Dewey asked.

“As soon as we’re done here, and we have our instructions for where to go and where not to go,” Webby answered, kissing Lena’s neck. “It doesn’t look like the contamination has spread much beyond St. Canard, but we need to make sure. Huey and Violet are doing recon and will be back soon to tell us the situation.”

Lena scoffed. Webby knew she didn’t think much of Violet, what with her having been possessed by Magica earlier. While she understood it, she disagreed. Violet had done much to atone for her accidental possession, and anyway, Violet was a good person. Lena just didn’t trust easily. Webby stroked her hair and then kissed her on the lips.

“I love you,” Webby said, drawing back. 

“Love you too, pink,” Lena whispered. She turned and smirked at Dewey. “Getting anxious, blue? You’re shifting from one foot to another.”

Dewey reddened. “Um, I’m okay.”

Webby glanced down and grinned wickedly. “Oh, I see the problem.”

“What?” Dewey said and then flushed crimson. “Oh, yeah, it’s kinda obvious. Heh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Lena scoffed. “We can help.”

Webby and Lena shared conspiratorial glances. Dewey looked askance but didn’t have time to do anything before the girls pounced, pinning him to the bed. Webby knew that Lena and Dewey weren’t as close as she and Dewey were, but that could be fixed. And would be once they were fully Bonded. They would share everything--thoughts, physical sensations, emotions. Webby couldn’t wait. And Lena thought she loved Webby more than Webby loved her--ha! She’d show her wrong.

Lena burst out laughing. ((Are you that disturbed by it, pink?))

((I love everyone with my whole heart,)) Webby said.

((I wasn’t aware this was a competition,)) Dewey protested. ((Am I losing?))

((Yes,)) Lena said, just as Webby was about to tell him, “no.” ((You’re losing. You can’t get it up. Not my fault, blue.))

Dewey squawked indignantly, and Lena laughed again. It was a good sound--she’d laughed so much more after the Bonding than she’d done while in Magica’s thrall. Webby just about melted when Lena laughed. It was so good to see her happy.

((I’ll show you!))

((Oh?)) Lena said and raised her eyebrows. ((Is that a promise or a threat, blue?))

((A promise! A threat! I don’t know! It’s something!)) 

((I’m so scared,)) Lena snorted. ((Aren’t you, Webs?))

((Oh, absolutely,)) Webby scoffed. The girls grinned at each other before descending upon Dewey and then each other. She would relish this, as well as their being together traveling through the desiccated land. They’d been separated for too long.

((We were barely separated, pink,)) Lena scoffed as Webby kissed down her neck. She meant to make another snarky comment, Webby was sure, but when Webby kissed lower and pressed her hand in a sensitive area, Lena’s snark vanished. She gasped, arching her back. 

((You sure about that?)) Webby countered.

((I’ll get you back for this later,)) Lena promised.

Webby grinned. ((I look forward to it.))

* * *

  
  
By the time they were finished, they were in an exhausted but happy heap. Lena was in the middle, leaning her head against Webby’s shoulder and had her arms draped over both of them. Webby turned to nuzzle her wife, and Lena nuzzled her back before kissing Dewey long and languidly. Lena still maintained she was a lesbian with Dewey as the sole exception. She’d been in love with Webby for far too long to entertain any notions of finding anyone else attractive unless Webby did too.

“And now we can be together forever,” Webby breathed. “As long as we all live.”

Lena nodded, though her mind had begun to drift. She had attempted earlier to check on Aunt Magica, but her mind was a miasma. Since she was safely tethered to her Bondeds now, Lena tried again. It wasn’t hard to find the insane asylum where Scrooge had shoved Magica. She wasn’t sure whether he was cheap or if the insane asylums near here really were that crappy. She also wasn’t sure if it mattered. Magica was oblivious to her surroundings.

((Aunt Magica?)) she prodded. Her aunt’s mind was grey smoke, seemingly without substance. A part of her recognized Lena’s intrusion but didn’t comprehend the significance. Lena tensed regardless, wary of a trick concealing another mental attack. Webby hugged her from one side and Dewey from the other. They kissed her neck, and Lena exhaled slowly. Dewey and Webby had her back. She was safe here. 

((It’s a lost cause,)) Webby murmured privately to Lena. With their full Consummation came the ability to speak to one or the other personally instead of broadcasting it to all of them. ((Why do you still care?))

((She’s still my aunt,)) Lena protested. ((She’s still family. I can’t give up on family.))

((You do know she would’ve killed you, right?)) Dewey asked, sounding oddly like his older brother Huey. ((I mean, it’s not like she would make an exception after Uncle Gladstone…))

That was another thing they needed to investigate. They needed to figure out what had befallen Gladstone and if he was wandering, insane, or if he had perished. Lena bet the latter, but she didn’t want to crush Dewey’s hopes. For all that Gladstone was an irascible pain in the ass, he _was _their second-cousin, and the triplets cared about him. 

((He’s out there. I can tell,)) Dewey insisted, stubborn. 

((But in what state?)) Lena murmured privately to Webby.

A knock came at the door, and they startled, looking around guiltily. Somehow, they had forgotten that Huey and Violet were due to return and give their report. They needed showers and then to dress again. Thankfully, Webby’s suite included a shower, though they probably should also spray the room too. Huey and Violet probably wouldn’t want to meet here anyway, but that was beside the point.

((We’ll be right there!)) Webby promised and then groaned. “Sorry! Forgot to speak out loud! We’ll be right there. Give us twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” Lena countered, snorting. “What are you going to do? Primp?”

“No, but Dewey might,” Webby teased.

“Hey, my hair doesn’t come out this cool on its own,” Dewey said. Lena snickered.

“It doesn’t come out that cool until Webby and I tug on your hair,” Lena threw back. 

Dewey reddened, suddenly driven by a desire to check the mirror. He dashed out of bed with Lena and Webby smirking. It was weird, knowing how he felt down to the smallest detail. Of course, there were ways to prune that back by partially or entirely blocking him out, but she didn’t want to do that, not just yet. Not unless she had a real reason to. She liked feeling what her Bondeds were feeling. Plus, knowing Webby’s mind intimately had its benefits, although Webby’s mind was stranger than she’d given it credit for.

Since Dewey was already up and about, they should probably shower too, possibly not together. That would be entirely too distracting. Lena rolled over to nuzzle Webby again and ran her hand down her smooth stomach. Maybe she could get away with a few minutes of cuddling before they had to move.

“Maybe it won’t have spread beyond St. Canard,” Lena said. “I mean, it’s been slow, the progression.”

“It’s been pretty fast, if it ate St. Canard in the last couple of days,” Webby pointed out. Damn. She knew that was the case, but she thought if she put a positive spin on it, she wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences.

“Why am I always the one to clean up Aunt Magica’s messes?” Lena groused. “Why can’t that woman just fix her own problems for once?”

She was speaking rhetorically, of course. Magica was in no state to clean up any messes, her own or others. She reached for her aunt’s mind again, to see whether there was any hint of Gladstone in her thoughts, but there wasn’t even a hint of Magica’s mind in them, either. Her aunt had gone catatonic, trapped beyond to an area Lena couldn’t reach. She couldn’t say she missed her aunt, but she didn’t like what this portended. The further gone Magica was, the more the magic deteriorated.

“We’ll fix it,” Webby promised. 

“Okay...but we don’t know how,” Lena pointed out. She sat up, hugging her knees. It was okay to be vulnerable in front of Webby. Webby and Dewey were the exceptions. Webby brushed back Lena’s floof and then kissed her on the lips. Lena kissed her back. She couldn’t resist. For years, she’d dreamt of kissing her. Now that it was a reality, she wouldn’t turn away any opportunity.

“We’ll figure it out. We’re Team Magic, aren’t we?” Webby said, and Lena groaned.

“Again with that stupid nickname. Give it a rest, pink,” Lena said and rolled her eyes. “Dewey’s not on the Team Magic train.”

“He will be,” Webby said. Lena got the impression her wife was going to bulldoze him into it. For someone who was smaller than the others, she certainly had a forceful personality. Then again, Webby was full of surprises. Lena turned her head to regard her. She loved her so much it made her chest ache to think about.

“Lena?” Webby murmured.

“Mmm?” 

“We’ll get a happy ever,” Webby promised. “And we’ll go on adventures together, just the three of us. It’s just one more thing we have to deal with.”

“No offense, pink, but everything seems like that lately. It took us forever to Consummate our Bond fully, and even now, we have to wait for Dewey to fix his end.”

“But that’ll happen later today or the next day. Definitely within the next two weeks, as long as Dewey doesn’t get lost.”

Lena snorted. “You’re right. He’s not Captain Lost. We should be fine.”

Webby’s gaze turned introspective. “I’m worried about Louie. Doofus left him alone after he shared all those embarrassing videos and diary entries, but he’s not the type to back away forever.”

And Louie hadn’t given the appearance of being able to take care of himself. The first time she’d met Louie, she’d accused him of abandoning Webby to the Beagle Boys, and he’d practically cried. The years hadn’t done much to improve that. Lena rolled her eyes. How could someone who saw all the angles be so sensitive? 

“You don’t think he has a Bonded, do you?” Webby asked.

“If he has a Bonded, it’s money,” Lena said and shrugged. “You know how much he cares about wealth and material things.”

“I want him to be happy. I think Violet and Huey will end up being together,” Webby said. “I know that’s not the point, but money can’t be there for you all the time. Look at Uncle Scrooge and Goldie.”

“Yeah, let’s not look at them. They’re gross,” Lena said and unfolded her legs. She headed for the shower now that Dewey was done. He was primping his hair, and Lena rolled her eyes, smacking him on the butt before showering. He yelped, taken aback. Oh, man, it was a good thing he was Bonded to them because otherwise, he would’ve been eaten alive.

Had she thought Louie was soft? Dewey was too in his way. It probably came from having a decent childhood. Huh. She wondered what that was like, to have had a childhood without drama or issues. Must’ve been pleasant. She shrugged and went into the shower. Real-life was waiting for her outside. She couldn’t put it off much longer.

* * *

  
  
Huey was waiting on his brother and his Bondeds. Violet was searching through a book at his side while they sat in the living room. She’d been paging through it for a while now, searching back and forth for a specific paragraph. He’d learned earlier not to disturb her. It wasn’t that she’d snap at him but that she wouldn’t respond. She’d stare at him until he shut up. 

Her hair was iridescent under the lights, and it took his breath away. She usually wore it tied up, but on the rare occasions when she let it down, it was breathtaking. Though he hadn’t admitted it to anyone, he had a crush on her. She reminded him of himself in some ways, with the book smarts and predisposition toward reading. Her emotionless tack kept him guessing and trying to prompt a reaction. 

How long was it going to take his brother to finish? The girls sauntered in, brushing casually against each other. Lena was much more relaxed, and she held Webby’s hand. Their fingers were intertwined, and they shared knowing looks. Huey felt envious because he wanted something like that. Maybe with Violet. Perhaps with someone else. He had a crush on her, but he couldn’t say for sure that Violet was The One. Surely there was a test to tell. He hadn’t had time to check all the books about Bonding.

And Uncle Scrooge didn’t keep that many in the house. He’d scorned Bonding until recently, despite being half-Bonded to Goldie. Or, perhaps, _because _he’d been half-Bonded to her. Della had found a few for him hiding out in the library, but for the rest, Huey was on his own. Webby had a couple, he knew, but he felt awkward asking his sister. Besides, he knew what she’d used them for. He reddened. Violet hadn’t noticed.

“Hey, Violet,” Webby said. “Hey, Huey.”

“Hey, nerds,” Lena said, smirking. They settled on the couch opposite Huey and Violet. Dewey came in a minute later, still fixing his hair. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe he was related to him. He was so vain. Huey could never be so self-absorbed.

“What have you found out?” Webby asked. Dewey sat on her left and Lena on her right. They seemed perfectly at ease with each other, and envy surged through him again. But he had no reason to be upset. Louie hadn’t Bonded. Their mother hadn’t either. Or, rather, she had almost Bonded with Selene, the moon goddess, but things hadn’t gone according to plan. They had decided not to Bond at all, rather than risk doing it incompletely and leading to serious consequences. The same consequences, mind you, that had befallen Uncle Gladstone and Magica.

During their surveillance, they had seen no hint of Uncle Gladstone. As far as Huey could tell, Uncle Gladstone was gone. It left him with a heavy feeling in his heart. Magica was good at wrecking families, her own included. Huey pitied her, nonetheless. It was hard not to, though he suspected Lena managed just fine.

“The contamination is spreading beyond St. Canard, which is what we feared,” Huey said. 

“How far has it gone?” Webby asked, leaning forward on the couch. Lena took one hand, and Dewey took the other. They were a cohesive unit already.

“It’s heading toward Mouseton. It’s already spreading toward Cape Suzette,” Huey said. “So it’s spreading in an east, northeast direction.”

“We’re trying to account for the anomalies,” Violet added. “And to figure out what’s accelerating it.”

She frowned, looking at Huey as if seeking permission. He had no idea what she was asking permission for, however, and thus frowned back at her. She cast a curious glance at those gathered and then straightened when Uncle Scrooge, Goldie, Della, and Louie came in. Behind Della was Penumbra, to Huey’s faint surprise. He still didn’t know what was going on with his mom and Penumbra, and he was afraid to ask.

“Did ye find Gladstone?” Uncle Scrooge asked, and Huey and Violet shook their heads. 

Violet grimaced, perhaps deciding it was best to be out with it and deal with the consequences later. “I have a theory about what precipitated the progression.”

“And?” Goldie asked, raising her eyebrows. “Spill. We’re not going to sit here all weekend and wait.”

“I believe,” Violet said and cast an unhappy glance at the triplets, “that Gladstone’s death may have accelerated the corruption.”

Silence fell, heavy and painful. Della looked down, and the triplets exchanged glances. They had their telepathy back after the Doofus hiccup, though it probably wasn’t as deep as a Bonded connection would be. Or so Huey assumed, not having one to draw parallels to. 

“You’re sure he’s dead, lass?” Scrooge asked gently. 

“Yes,” Violet said, grimacing. “I don’t see how he could have possibly survived.”

The other option, no one wanted to discuss. It wouldn’t have helped, anyway. The only way to repair broken Bond insanity was death. Sanity could not be restored, not that type. It manifested in different ways, but with the same result. Huey felt like a twenty-pound weight had landed on his chest and knew his brothers felt similarly. 

“I see. Thank ye, lass,” Uncle Scrooge said, sighing. 

“I’m not sure what other outcomes there would have been, Scrooge,” Goldie murmured, perhaps forgetting she had telepathy. 

“I know, I know,” he said and crashed into a nearby armchair. He sighed, glancing over at Della. “I almost went out of my mind when I thought ye were dead. This isn’t as bad, but…”

“I know,” Della said softly and reached over to squeeze his arm. “Maybe there’s a chance…”

Yet even as she said it, they knew. There didn’t seem to be anything to add. 

“Looks ye have your work cut out for ye, lad and lassies,” Scrooge said, nodding to Dewey, Lena, and Webby. They nodded.

“We’re still gonna do more reconnaissance,” Huey added, feeling the need to accomplish _something_. “We have to. We need to know how far this thing has spread and whether it can be contained.”

“Do ye think that it can?” Scrooge asked.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Violet queried.

“Please,” Scrooge said. 

“I don’t know,” Huey said at the same time Violet said, “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Huey demanded.

“You saw what was going on. This isn’t going to end well, not unless we figure out a way to stop it in its tracks,” Violet said and shook her head. He was momentarily distracted by her hair moving back and forth. It bounced. 

“Yeah, that sounds fun and all, but I’m gonna sit this one out,” Louie said. 

“You probably wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway,” Webby pointed out. “Lena, Dewey, and I have magic. Violet does too. But you…” 

“All I can do is spark electricity,” Louie scoffed. “That won’t help.”

“So it was _you _who turned out the lights last night,” Della said. 

“Random blackout,” Louie lied. “I have no idea how that happened.”

Della raised her eyebrows. “Uh-huh. And you weren’t experimenting with your powers at all, right?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway,” Scrooge said, giving Louie a shrewd glance, “we’ll all keep in touch, won’t we? Just in case there are any other developments I should know about.”

They agreed and broke away from each other. Huey’s stomach hurt, along with his chest. He didn’t want to think about Gladstone lying somewhere, senseless or worse. Violet was right, he knew she was, but he didn’t want to face the reality of it. Gladstone had helped keep an eye on them when Uncle Donald was busy. He wasn’t like a surrogate father or anything--that was more Donald’s thing--but he was family. And you didn’t turn your back on family.

* * *

  
  
For the same reason that Huey didn’t want to give up on Gladstone, Lena was having a hard time giving up on Aunt Magica. She knew she should. She knew that obsessing over it was a sure way to drive herself insane. But she felt responsible. And that guilt was not going anyway any time soon.

“After everything’s settled, we’ll check on Magica,” Webby promised, knowing that Lena was fretting.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Lena scoffed, attempting to play it off. She didn’t say it in telepathy, however, because she knew it was a lie. Webby pecked her on the cheek.

“I’m sure,” Webby said, likewise not using telepathy. “She’ll be just where we left her. How we left her.”

“Let’s hope the world is too,” Lena muttered. She wasn’t that hopeful. 


	2. Chapter 2

Flintheart Glomgold was nothing if not an opportunist. People were frantic, freaking out over the magical corruption spreading. He saw a business opportunity if only he could grasp it. Zan Owlson, his assistant, didn’t see it. She saw people who needed shelter and to escape from the corruption before it hit them. Ah, yes, but what if he gouged people who sought sanctuary in one of his hotels? Zan said that was unethical. Glomgold had laughed. He was a businessman. Ethics was a foreign word.

He was aware of the current events, too, beyond the severed Bond. He knew that Scrooge and Goldie were going to finally marry, which struck him as very strange. It also meant he’d have someone else threatening his chance to be the wealthiest dragon in the world. His usual plans involved killing Scrooge, though he supposed he could branch outward. It was just that he was afraid of Goldie. It was hard not to be--the woman was intimidating.

It seemed to be his lot in life to be overruled by scary dragon ladies, too. He hadn’t Bonded and probably never would, but that didn’t stop women from running roughshod over him. He had dealings with Magica de Spell in the past. He wasn’t sorry to see her confined in an asylum. But that was a rats’ den he had no intention of infiltrating. 

What he ought to do was subvert Scrooge and Goldie’s Flight. That would probably be his best chance to catch Scrooge alone and kill him. Then again, Goldie would eviscerate him if he did that. Plus, the whole “attacking during the Flight” thing was overdone. Everyone knew it’d been done recently, too, to the Dragon brats.

There was another option, however heinous. The Flight’s general purpose was to produce an egg, though he didn’t see Goldie as the maternal sort. Still, there would be others in the household to take care of the dragon once it hatched. If he stole the egg that resulted, Scrooge would be furious and, therefore, putty in Glomgold’s hands. He ought to be able to trick him into coming for the egg and then lure him into a trap. 

Of course, he had to worry about Goldie too, because no matter that she wasn’t the mothering type, that egg would be hers and Scrooge’s. She probably wouldn’t take well to it being pilfered. Plus, she’d know exactly what was running through Scrooge’s head. He’d have to tread carefully, but what else is new?

Yes, the more he thought about it, the more it might work. He needed to add a few more steps, make sure it was elaborate enough to suit his interests. From there, though, the sky was the limit. Or, rather, the ground. He grinned. 

Of course, if he got caught stealing the egg and doing anything to it, he’d probably end up running afoul of the law. The law frowned on such things as kidnapping and murder. But when you’re rich enough, you can get away with anything. And once Scrooge was dead, he’d be the wealthiest dragon in the world. That ought to count for something.

“You’d better not be plotting in there!” Zan warned. “I can _ hear _you scheming.”

“Ye cannae hear me scheming because I’m thinking it, not saying it!” he protested.

Zan sighed and popped her head into the room. She was a slim dragon, with curly black hair and brown skin. She had a sharp nose and keen golden eyes, almost like an owl. The way her eyes narrowed at him, he knew she wasn’t impressed. She might have saved the company some money by limiting his schemes and plotting, but she was cutting into his time to destroy Scrooge. 

“You didn’t deny that you’re doing it,” Zan said. 

“Er, of course, I’m not doing anything!” It was too little, too late, and she sighed. 

“What are you up to now?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “And how much is it going to cost the company?”

“Nothing!” he protested. “I’m not up to anything!”

“Don’t give me that. I wasn’t hatched yesterday,” she said and folded her arms across her chest. She glowered at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“What if I don’t, and you have plausible deniability for later?” 

She looked unimpressed. Despite not being much taller than him, she managed to look down her nose at him. Her eyes flashed. Damn her, but she was smarter than him. 

“What are you doing to Scrooge this time? And why would I need plausible deniability?”

“It’s just a little scheme,” he demurred. She looked like she wanted to throttle him. 

“Nothing is just little with you!” she snapped. “Tell me.”

“If I tell ye, ye won’t let me do it!” he huffed.

“That would be the whole point!” she snarled. “Do you even realize how much your cockamamie schemes are costing this company?”

“I’ll do this one for free,” he said. 

“That isn’t encouraging.” 

She stood there, hands on her hips, in his office. Dragons couldn’t grow facial hair, not even in human form, yet he’d managed to procure a beard. He knew she disliked it, which was part of why he kept it. He _would _be more Scottish than Scrooge, even if it killed him.

“If I tell ye, ye will warn Scrooge,” he protested.

She groaned, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Whatever. It probably won’t work. But if you use so much as a dime of the company’s money, I’m putting an end to it. And you’re not killing him. Or hurting him.”

“Ruin all my fun, will ye, Owlson?” he huffed.

“I will if it’s illegal and will land this company in more hot water.”

He scoffed. “The company is fine.”

“What about that bail-out a couple of years ago?” 

“That was two years ago! No one remembers that in business time!”

The look on her face said she wasn’t buying it. “It wrecked consumer confidence in us and sent Scrooge’s stocks soaring. We still haven’t recovered from it. Don’t even think of another scheme.”

Perhaps sensing she wasn’t about to win the argument, she huffed and pivoted, turning back toward the door. “I will stop you.”

He waited until she’d closed the door before imitating her. “‘I will stop you,’” he repeated, huffing. “Not if I do it super sneaky. Then no one will ever know, not until Scrooge has to come begging to me for his egg back!”

He cackled, and she wrenched the door open again.

“No schemes and no cackling!” she snapped and shut the door again. 

He cackled quieter. This would succeed beyond his wildest dreams. All he had to do was wait for them to return from their Flight with the egg and then bam! He’d hire a few thugs, perhaps Beagle Boys, to help him. After all, he wasn’t intimidating himself, especially in dragon form. He was rather roly-poly as a dragon. 

Hmm. This might take a few months. Dragons didn’t lay eggs immediately after the Flight. It required gestation before laying, like a month or so. He wasn’t exactly sure, never having been in a position to worry about it before. He’d look it up and then start planning in earnest. 

He opened his laptop to spy a message flitting across the screen. 

“_ No. Schemes _.”

He wondered if she could oust him from his own company. Was that possible? The business wasn’t like a pirate ship. You couldn’t mutiny, right? He didn’t know. Maybe that was something else he needed to look into.

If she did oust him, what was he supposed to do? His name wasn’t even Flintheart Glomgold. Legally, he had no leg to stand on. Duke Baloney owned nothing. Forget him. He was a non-entity. Flintheart Glomgold was the real big deal. 

Should he consider ousting Zan before she knocked him out? Or was that too paranoid? He stroked his fake beard. Maybe he should deal with one enemy at a time. Scrooge was the more pressing issue. Once he’d disposed of Scrooge, he could consider what he meant to do about Zan Owlson.

As for the egg, well, he’d probably have to destroy it too. It stood to inherit directly from Scrooge. Then again, it _was _just a hatchling. Aside from that one incident where he’d flung Webby into the ocean to prove himself the better fisherman, he had no quarrel with children. He hadn’t intended to drown her, honestly. People made such a big deal out of it.

Oh, wait, the egg. Yes. He supposed Goldie could have it if she were so inclined. If not, he could take it under his wing and nurture it to do evil and wreak havoc on the McDragon clan. Yes, he liked the sound of that. He cackled again, albeit into his hands to prevent Owlson from overhearing.

_ By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. _

* * *

  
  
“It has to be a quick Flight,” Huey warned his younger brother. “I don’t want you out any longer than you have to be, not with the corruption spreading.”

Dewey scoffed. “We have this under control.”

“And what happens when Lena and Webby have to lay their eggs? What then?” Huey objected. “They need to be incubated and kept safe. You can’t do that if you’re far from home.”

“Tell me he didn’t say ‘lay our eggs,’” Lena said, perturbed. “Tell me that I’m not laying any eggs, Webs.”

“Technically, the whole point of the Bond is to ensure the continuation of our species…” Webby said. “At least, for male/female Bonds. Male/male and female/female Bonds are more for companionship.”

“I will take care of the eggs after they’ve been incubated,” Mrs. Beakley said, standing behind Webby. They had moved to the main dining room and were discussing this over breakfast. It was enough to turn Lena’s stomach. She was too young to be a mother. And she hadn’t entirely wanted Dewey and the whole shebang, but she’d wanted Webby. Her stomach churned.

“Dragon eggs take an average of five years to incubate,” Webby said. 

“That’s why the Bond is so important because anything could happen during those five years,” Huey added, consulting his JWG, a.k.a. his Bible. “It’s not something you have to worry about right away, but it is worth considering."

“Yeah, okay, but how much does it suck to lay an egg? And what do you mean, eggs, plural?” Lena snapped.

“Usually, a dragon clutch consists of one to three eggs,” Mrs. Beakley said. A shadow passed over her face.

“I don’t have any aunts or uncles, do I?” Webby asked, and a sudden stillness fell over the room. Lena cringed. This was not a topic Beakley had discussed with her granddaughter before now. Judging by the pain in the older dragon’s face, it was not a welcome subject.

“You did,” Mrs. Beakley said. She then changed the subject. “You may wish to prepare for more than three or even...no eggs. It happens in rare circumstances.”

Lena cringed. She didn’t want to bear children, but she also didn’t want to be barren, either. Webby hugged her. 

“Uncle Donald and Mom came from the same egg,” Dewey said, and Mrs. Beakley frowned. Her gaze remained far away, perhaps with her lost progeny.

“It happens,” Webby said. “But...not often either.”

She still looked curious about her grandmother’s comment, but Mrs. Beakley gave no indication she intended to fill Webby in on it. Lena squeezed Webby back.

“The important thing is the Flight,” Mrs. Beakley continued. “Don’t worry about anything else right now. It’s all just distractions. You’ll be all right.”

“What _ did _happen to my aunts and uncles?” Webby asked.

“There are preparations to make,” Mrs. Beakley said and shooshed the others out. “Go on, go. It’ll be fine.”

That was avoiding the question. Lena opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. She had no intention of agitating old wounds. Besides, there were limited cases in which dragons, newly hatched, attacked each other out of their eggs out of fear that the other hatchlings were a threat. Usually, that indicated something abnormal about the nest. 

She glanced at Webby, who had been thinking about that and then passed the information along to Lena without realizing it. Webby did that sometimes, more and more often since they were fully Bonded. Lena would encounter thoughts that weren’t her own or elucidations on topics she’d been wondering about. Webby meant nothing ill by it, though it was sometimes jarring to find thoughts not her own implanted there. 

According to Cal, Lena had been fortunate to avoid ending up with permanent brain damage as a result of Aunt Magica’s constant mental attacks. As it was, however, he wanted to use Bond healing, which was being close to one’s Bonded and sharing affection, in case anything might be malingering. Lena was grateful Aunt Magica couldn’t touch her anymore, although she was worried that Aunt Magica couldn’t affect anything anymore. The latest news had it that she was tube fed. She was losing the will to live, locked up inside her head.

((It’s not your fault,)) Webby said, sensing where Lena’s thoughts were heading. ((Don’t blame yourself.))

((Kinda hard when she’s the one in mental traction, pink.))

((It would’ve been you otherwise…)) Dewey chimed in, and Lena sighed. He was right, and she knew it. That didn’t mean that she wanted to acknowledge it. 

((I wonder what _did _happen to Mom’s siblings…)) Webby mused.

((Don’t ask her for more information,)) Lena warned. ((She’s not going to give it to you.))

If hatchlings attacked other hatchlings, then how had Poe survived? He didn’t seem like the dominant type, not compared to his sister. Aunt Magica was in a class all her own. So, then, what _did _account for it? Maybe her grandparents had intervened, whoever they were. Lena had no idea what had happened to them, and, for all she knew, Aunt Magica had killed them. She wouldn’t put it past her.

Her thoughts were leading her into increasingly morbid contemplations. She jerked her head, attempting to remove her headspace from that minefield. Dewey and Webby, if they had noticed, were nonetheless discussing something else. Namely Della and Donald.

Penumbra was lurking about the manor, too, Lena knew. She was Della’s guest, if not more. Then again, other people’s relationships were not her business, not unless they directly impacted hers. As far as they knew, Della and “Penny” were roommates. And they left it at that because it seemed hazardous to conjecture further in Penumbra’s presence.

“So, when do you think Violet and Huey are going to hook up?” Lena asked, interrupting their train of thought.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” Webby scoffed. “They’re not interested in each other.”

“Pink, I love you, I do, but you have the romantic acuity of a magical tree stump,” Lena said. “They’ve been eyeing each other for a while now.”

“Ew...I don’t want to think about Huey in a relationship. That’s gross,” Dewey objected.

“You could always think of Louie,” Lena said, smirking. “He’s going to end up marrying money. And I don’t mean ‘into money.’ But money itself.”

“Eh, still gross,” Dewey said. “Not as bad as that nightmare I had where he had super long legs and arms, though. That takes the cake.”

“I am not even going to ask,” Lena said. 

“Yeah, it’s probably best if you don’t,” Webby agreed. She frowned thoughtfully. “I feel like I would have noticed, though, about Violet and Huey.”

“Again, pink, magical tree stump,” Lena said and rolled her eyes. “Don’t sweat it. Other people’s romantic problems are not yours. Now, we need to get prepared for the Flight. Provided no one decides to fly over St. Canard or any other blighted areas, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“It’s supposed to be about the romance of the Chase, not about returning here,” Webby huffed. 

“And maybe it would be, if it weren’t for Magica’s corruption everywhere,” Lena pointed out. She gnawed the inside of her cheek. After the Flight, they would need to check everywhere. Thankfully, Violet and Huey had volunteered to help, if they weren’t too distracted by each other. Young love was so annoying.

“Don’t worry about it,” Webby soothed. “We’re gonna kick her ass, even if this is only indirectly her fault.”

“And we’ll find Uncle Gladstone,” Dewey added. Lena and Webby exchanged uneasy glances.

“What?” he protested.

“Nothing, nothing…” Webby said, clearly unwilling to hurt his feelings. Lena swallowed hard and nodded along. They both wanted to spare him, though he was bound to find out soon enough.

“So, when does this Flight begin?” Dewey asked in a would-be casual tone.

“At sunset,” Mrs. Beakley said from behind them. She hugged Webby and then Lena to her. Lena startled. This family was big on hugs and physical affection. It took some getting used to. 

“That’s only a couple hours from now,” Webby protested.

“Then perhaps you ought to stop delaying and ensure everything is ready, including your Flight pattern,” Mrs. Beakley said gently, scolding. 

“Right!” Webby said. “We’ll figure out where we’re going, how far we’re going, and which direction we’ll go so Dewey can catch us.”

Lena rolled her eyes. She already knew Dewey would catch Webby first. She wasn’t concerned with that. While she waited for the Bond to be fully linked between the three of them, she would sniff out dark magic. At least then her waiting would be suitable for something.

She left Webby and Dewey to plan the logistics out; she knew that if she ignored them, they’d eventually fill her in anyway. Stretching, she resumed gnawing the inside of her cheek. Just how far was Magica’s corruption going to spread, anyway?

* * *

Gladstone Gander was a shadow of his past self. He’d pulled himself out a crash landing and was walking, his right arm hanging at an awkward angle because his shoulder was dislocated. He was oblivious to everything around him. Tripping over a tree root, he sprawled on the forest floor. Mechanically, he pushed himself to his feet with his good hand and resumed walking. He had no idea where he was walking to or what he hoped to accomplish, if anything. There wasn’t enough cognitive function for him to be able to think about it too hard.

There was another dim spark in his mind, one that felt female, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He shuffled on, paying no heed to St. Canard’s denizens as he walked through the park. Wherever he went, the grass died, and trees expired. Magic choked, and it was like he brought a wave of darkness and heaviness wherever he went.

He didn’t have enough presence of self left to know he was insane. Dewey was correct that he was alive, but only in the sense that he lived and breathed. The essence of Gladstone had disappeared into the ether. Even if Dewey had wanted to resurrect him, it was impossible. 

But before he perished, he would spread the broken Bond’s taint throughout the United States, one plodding foot at a time.

* * *

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been part of a light-sided commune,” Penumbra said, shifting from one foot to another. 

“How long had you been with them?” Della asked, curious. Penumbra was putting away her clothes; since she’d left the compound without anything save the clothes on her back, they had needed to go shopping. 

Penny stopped and gave Della a look. Della chose to ignore it.

“Everyone’s pretty chill here,” Della said. “Uncle Scrooge is just wound up a bit because of his thing with Goldie.”

Della’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t trust her,” Penny pronounced, and Della nodded.

“Me neither. Ever since Donald and I were kids, I was always suspicious of her. If I had known that she and Uncle Scrooge were meant to be together…” she shook her head.

“You would have found a way to destroy it before it progressed so far?” Penumbra suggested. 

“No...because by the time I found out, it was too late. Also, I’d have had to stop them from...gross.”

Penny raised her eyebrows, and Della scoffed. Of course, she didn’t get it. She had probably never been in such an embarrassing situation in her life. It occurred to Della that she knew next to nothing about Penumbra. Then again, she hadn’t been very forthcoming.

“What about you?” Della asked. Penny frowned.

“What about me?” Penumbra asked, an edge to her voice that Della again ignored.

“Don’t you have family back at the compound? Why didn’t you bring them with you?” 

“Lunaris was my family,” Penumbra said, not looking at Della this time but staring straight ahead. “And I betrayed him. I have no family.”

“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry,” Della said, and she was. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right.” Though judging from her tone, it wasn’t. She’d just aggravated a wound. Della came around to Penny’s side and hugged her. At first, the other woman froze, unaccustomed to touch, perhaps. From what Della had observed from the compound, there wasn’t much in the way of friendly touch going on there.

“So, Lunaris is your brother?” 

Penny sighed. “Yes and no. We were encouraged to think of everyone as our brothers and sisters.”

“So, like a cult,” Della said.

Again, she didn’t meet her gaze. “Yes. Except it wasn’t that unpleasant.”

“If it wasn’t that unpleasant, then why did you leave and come with me? Oh, right, the betrayal thing.”

“That and, for reasons unknown to me and my sanity, I find your company...tolerable.”

Della beamed. “I knew you liked me, deep down.”

“I didn’t say that!” Penumbra said hotly. “I said I found your company tolerable! There’s a big difference!”

“No, there isn’t,” Della said smugly. Penumbra glowered. 

“So, where did you get your name from?” Della continued. “I noticed that almost everyone in that commune was named after astronomical features or stars, planets, etc.”

“The founder was a big believer in star power,” she said and rolled her eyes. “Didn’t work out for him, in the long run.”’

She scrutinized Della, and Della stared back, a smile still fixed to her lips despite Penny’s stare. “What is it?”

“If I could have healed you before, I would have,” she said and then shrugged. “I’m sorry you spent ten years paralyzed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Della said, though she felt oddly self-conscious of her former injury. 

“Still.”

“Hey, let’s worry about how things are going to be now, not what happened in the past,” Della said brightly. “I know! I should give you a tour of Dragonburg!”

Penny frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Oh, wait, this is you. You’d do it even if it weren’t a good idea.”

“It’ll be fun,” Della said and beamed at her. “You’ll see.”

Judging by the sour look on her face, the other woman doubted it, but Della would make her see. She’d always wanted to share her world with someone. Selene hadn’t left Ithaca. As for the boys’ father, well, the less said of him, the better. 

But this would be fun. She continued grinning at Penumbra and hoped she’d get caught up in the excitement. Della would do her best to ensure she did, one way or another, even if it killed her. (Though she didn’t exactly want to die). 

“It’ll be like a date,” Della proposed, and Penumbra reddened.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Not even a little?” Della teased. “You’ve never been on a date, I bet.”

The other woman gave her a long-suffering look. A date, then. She grabbed Penumbra, who had been in the process of adding another blouse to the dresser, and dragged her out to the door. This was a good sign--she wasn’t fighting her. She was also rolling her eyes and doing a lot of sighing, but she wasn’t fighting her. Della would take the good signs when she could get them.

* * *

The members of the commune had not taken kindly to Penumbra’s defection. Once they found out where she was, they planned to have a word with her — a violent one. 

Reports said that Della Dragon had taken her under her wing. They would follow, then, to Dragonburg. Soon. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Thanksgiving! 
> 
> I found my B-plot! Woot!

As she’d predicted, Dewey had chased Webby first. He couldn’t avoid fully Bonding with Lena, but he preferred Webby. That was all right. It allowed Lena to scout out the area and see whether she could determine how far the blight had spread. She was fully linked to Webby, anyway, which was what she’d wanted for years. Magica’s corruption took precedence to a full link with Dewey.

Dewey and Webby had taken off for Cape Suzette, despite Huey’s warning about not straying too far. They’d been caught up in the moment. Lena could understand, even if she couldn’t empathize. From this vantage point, she saw nothing amiss, magic, or mundane. When she extended her senses, she didn’t detect anything either. 

However, she sensed corruption to the east, where the very air repulsed her. She nipped over there and halted, hovering in mid-air. Hovering was difficult for any dragon, much less someone ill-used to the form, and she landed. In her lungs, the air was the magical equivalent of ash and decay. It threatened to choke her. That wasn’t what had caught her attention, though it was unpleasant enough. 

She thought she’d caught a glimpse of Gladstone. Yet when she’d looked again, he was gone. Alarmed, she shot forward, scanning the immediate area. On land, she wasn’t as adroit in this form, and she felt like a massive, clumsy beast. Spoonerville wasn’t designed with dragons in mind, not even nominally like Dragonburg or St. Canard. If she continued, she risked trampling someone or causing significant property damage. That was damned inconvenient.

She retreated, ascended into the air again, and did a quick reconnaissance of the city. There was nothing unusual here; the corruption ended on the city limits. She felt that tug back toward her Bondeds and vowed she’d be back once she had more concrete evidence. And still, she could have sworn that she’d seen Gladstone, even if it’d only been for a second.

Perturbed, she reached out mentally for her aunt to see whether she knew of his fate. It was like reaching through a thundercloud and attempting to grasp lightning. Her mental fingers touched nothing, and she withdrew, disturbed. She knew she shouldn’t care. She knew she should be happy that Aunt Magica was disabled, especially after all she’d put Lena through. Yet Lena couldn’t shake the sense that her aunt was _family_ and that you don’t turn your back on family. Either way that you looked at it, it sucked.

Following the clarion call, she sped toward Cape Suzette. She could sense that Dewey and Webby had filled their part of the Bond, which meant it was her turn. She was apprehensive, a small part of her worried that it still might fall through. Aunt Magica’s tale rang in her head. 

A blue dragon shot past her and startled her. Lena yelped, and Dewey charged straight for her. Lena rushed away, adrenaline replacing her anxiety. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, either. Webby had probably caused him to run all over the place; she would do likewise. If it tired him out, well, that was his hard luck. She didn’t feel the slightest bit sorry for him. He’d chosen both of them.

She saw a pink dragon on the sidelines and rolled her eyes. Webby was cheering them on, complete with shaking around in mid-air and pumping her forelegs. Lena didn’t know how she was staying aloft while standing, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. Dewey rushed for Lena, and Lena did a complicated twirl that would’ve been much more impressive if she’d meant to do it. She’d stumbled into it.

Dewey growled and rushed at her. Lena pulled straight up, catching a draft, and sailed above his head. Blowing him a raspberry, she dashed off toward Cape Suzette. They were low enough now that people could see them, and Dewey stopped chasing her for a minute to preen, taking in all the attention. Lena laughed. Dewey was such a middle child.

He’d never catch her at this rate. She needed to incentivize him. Brushing close to him, enough for their scales to rub against each other, she puffed smoke in his face. Dewey, who’d been concentrating on their onlookers and not on his second Bonded, choked, and Lena cackled. He wouldn’t look half as appealing if he weren’t actually pursuing her.

Dewey rushed after her again and caught her tail. She smacked him with it in the face. Ha, he thought she was going to take it easy on him? Why should she do that? He’d chosen her and Webby. He had to realize nothing would be easy ever again.

Her tail slipped out of his grasp, and she shot upward only for him to tackle her in mid-air. She kicked him away, and he held fast. Damn it, he was going to succeed, and she’d barely put him through his paces. Blowing him another raspberry, she met his eyes and then rolled her own. Yeah, all right, the point of the Chase and then the Flight was not to torture Bondeds into a prolonged affair. She’d let him have this round. They could worry about a more extended tryst when they were fully Bonded, all three of them.

Webby was still watching, and Lena rolled her eyes at her too. 

((You win this round, blue,)) Lena conceded. ((But don’t think this is over!))

((Uh, okay?)) Dewey said, at a loss. Lena grinned and twined their tails together. Webby shifted closer, perhaps thinking they needed help. Lena snorted.

((Pretty sure I know how to do this, pink,)) she teased. ((If I didn’t, I’d be worried.))

Webby puffed up, and she grinned at her. She loved her so much, and she’d grow to love Dewey as much, perhaps, in time. She wasn’t giving up on them, and they felt the same way. 

* * *

“I saw Gladstone,” Lena said once they’d landed and resumed their humanoid forms. They’d taken clothes with them, lest they walk around in the nude. Webby was in the middle with her arms about her Bondeds’ waists. It was a little awkward to match their paces, but they were still in sync from their Flight and full consummations. 

“You did?” Dewey exclaimed, excited. They were walking back into Dragonburg. “Is he okay?”

Lena faltered, looking at Webby for mute appeal. Webby frowned back. Unfortunately, owing to their nascent complete Bonding, it was impossible to screen out all thoughts and impressions. Lena’s concern rang out loud and clear. Dewey halted, scowling. 

“What?” he snapped. Anxiety replaced his irritation. “Is he okay?”

“He’s spreading the corruption,” Lena said after another minute of hesitation. “I didn’t get a close look at him--he was there and then gone--but...I’m not sure how much of him is left in there.”

“We can bring him back,” Dewey argued. “I know we can.”

Lena shook her head. She didn’t want to burst his hopes like this, and she glanced at Webby again. Webby was better at cushioning the blow than her. Webby knew how to soothe and comfort someone. Lena usually hid behind sarcasm and deflection, neither of which would help Dewey here.

“Please?” Dewey pleaded. Lena shook her head again. There was nothing to say.

Dewey’s good humor faded, and he walked around with his head down. Webby hugged him. 

“We’ll see what we can do,” she said. “Maybe there’s something.”

“You think so?” he asked, and, like a balloon, his mood picked up. He was so pathetically eager. Lena felt a surge of affection for him, which took her by surprise. No wonder he and Webby were so well-suited for each other. They were both so sheltered. Lena envied them that.

Rather than burst his bubble a second time, Lena didn’t speak. She did her best not to convey disapproval through their link, too. They made their way back to McDragon Manor and glanced up as a shadow passed over them. While it wasn’t uncommon to see dragons swooping around in Dragonburg, Lena thought that bulky dark green dragon looked familiar. Flintheart Glomgold? What was he doing about?

“Glomgold?” Dewey and Webby echoed.

Lena’s eyes narrowed. She thought Glomgold should’ve been put on trial for nearly drowning Webby years ago. Unfortunately, money talked, and he had too much power and influence to be charged with anything. It didn’t hurt his case that he was one of the ruling oligarchs, though not with as much power as Scrooge McDragon had. Scrooge had the greatest weight, as the wealthiest dragon in the world. It was one of the many sources of contention between himself and Glomgold.

“That and he’s just an asshole,” Lena muttered. Then again, something similar could be said of Scrooge. While she didn’t share her aunt’s contempt for him, she knew he’d done questionable things to get ahead in the past. It was all in the name of the business, which seemed to make people think they had carte blanche to do whatever it took to make a quick buck. Scrooge valued his family, yes, and he loved them. But that didn’t mean everyone, especially those outside of his family, loved him back.

They continued for a while in silence.

“What do you think he’s up to?” Webby asked a couple of blocks later. “He’s never out in his dragon form.”

“Nothing good,” Lena said darkly. Once, her aunt and Glomgold had a partnership, but it had fallen through. Lena didn’t know whose fault it was; it might’ve been both of them, knowing how finicky billionaires and insane people tended to be.

“He’s not after anything at McDragon Manor,” Dewey observed. “He’s heading in the opposite direction.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s off the hook,” Lena snapped. 

“I wonder if Huey and Violet are back,” Dewey said, changing the subject.

“I wonder if they saw Gladstone too…” Lena murmured, unaware she was speaking until her Bondeds stared at her. She flushed. 

What would it mean if they’d seen him too? Could his shade be wandering around? Or was there another explanation? How could he have been in one place and vanished so quickly? Was she seeing impressions of him? Damn, she almost wished she’d paid more attention to her aunt’s lectures now.

Almost, but they’d been so dull.

They came upon McDragon Manor, and Lena frowned. She had a strange prickle down her spine, and she steeled herself for anything. With that taint in the air, anything could’ve happened to Huey and Violet. She shared in Dewey’s and Webby’s apprehension about them, despite her personal feelings toward Violet. 

* * *

Louie might’ve been preoccupied with his schemes, but he was aware of other people too. Violet and Huey hadn’t returned an hour after they were supposed to. They also hadn’t called in, which wasn’t like them. Like the laid back, lazy kid, he shouldn’t have cared. But it crept upon him nonetheless. Something was wrong.

He didn’t want to head out in his dragon form to find out what. He hated flying around in his dragon form, and after his recent altercation with Doofus, he detested it even more. Plus, he was aware of his gimpy tail, which not only affected his flight patterns; it made him self-conscious. 

If someone was missing, someone else should find them. Dewey, Webby, and Lena were back. He could always ask them to hunt for his errant brother and his would-be girlfriend. Or he could ask his mom, who was practically overflowing with energy and enthusiasm since her healing. She was so effervescent; it was almost embarrassing. It reminded him of Dewey.

Of all the stupid things to feel guilty about--he thought he’d knocked away his conscience for the most part. After all, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Not lately, anyway.

He shuddered, thinking of how close his encounter with Doofus had been. Doofus was keeping to himself now; the videos and his diary had gone viral, allowing Louie a reprieve. So why was he bothering at all? His part in this whole shebang was over. 

There was no one he wanted to Bond with and anyway, he didn’t know that many girls. Besides, he’d never felt particularly attracted to anyone, male or female. He’d never seen the appeal. For one thing, he’d have to share his wealth, which he knew had been a sticking point for Uncle Scrooge. For another, he wasn’t comfortable with someone knowing him intimately. It made him shudder.

The only reason he’d thought about it at all was that his brothers were pairing up. The only eligible “bachelor” he could think of was Boyd, who was seldom in public. Mark Talons trotted him out for social events and then foisted him off on his nannies, despite Boyd being Louie’s age. He’d seemed desperate, sensitive, and caring, which meant that the business world would eat him alive. Louie almost felt sorry for the kid. He hadn’t asked for his father to be a philanderer who had happened upon him as his heir. 

Louie knew Boyd from a distance. It might be worth ingratiating himself with Mark Talons; if he had no loyalty toward Uncle Scrooge. Talons had undermined his great-uncle’s company too often for Louie’s admittedly lax morals to be comfortable. Boyd was having a coming of age party soon, though--it might be an opportunity for Louie to hob-nob with people if this whole corruption thing didn’t throw him off. He knew he’d get an invitation--Talons couldn’t afford to ostracize anyone by omitting them since Scrooge McDragon was the dominant power in Dragonburg. 

So, yeah, that had potential, but it didn’t help him with his current problems of Violet and Huey. Had they been attacked? He hadn’t sensed anything, but he wasn’t sure his triplet telepathy with them was back to normal after Doofus had somehow blocked it. Louie still didn’t know how that was possible. It shouldn’t have been. Then again, he’d encountered too many things that should’ve been impossible for him to write it off completely.

Eh, maybe someone else knew what had befallen Huey and Violet. He’d ask around before expending any unnecessary effort.

* * *

Rain lashed their wings as they hovered above St. Canard. The entire town was blighted, and its neighboring Cape Suzette had the beginnings of the magical taint. It was odd to be raining in one specific area and not in another, but then again, this whole situation was unaccounted for. Violet had never heard of such phenomena transpiring elsewhere, and Huey had consulted his JWG to no avail. They ought to land or return to McDragon Manor, but both wanted more information.

It might, however, be dangerous to fly over the blighted areas. Not having precedent made everything tricky. They ought to be getting back soon. Uncle Scrooge had given Huey a strict deadline. Violet nosed closer to a magical vortex, and while they knew they ought to be cautious and play it safe when Violet entered the vortex, Huey followed.

The first thing he noticed was that it had stopped raining. They also appeared to be in a meadow, and a purple coated unicorn dashed up to them. Huey paused. While he knew there were unicorns, he’d never encountered one in the flesh before. They tended to live in wild areas and, up until a minute ago, he’d been in a city. He’d also landed on the grass with no recollection of descending.

The unicorn looked excited to see them, and Violet and Huey proceeded slowly. The unicorn’s tail swished back and forth excitedly. It also pawed the ground, and although Huey knew it wasn’t a fowl, he couldn’t peg its age. 

“Hello,” the unicorn said. “My name is Vera.”

“Weren’t we just…” Huey faltered, at a loss for words. Violet stepped forward. 

“We were,” Violet assured him. “Where are we?”

“Vorschia,” Vera told them. She cocked her head curiously at them, and her ears flicked back. “Why? Where did you think you were?”

“We were right near Cape Suzette,” Huey replied, baffled. “Where’s Vorschia?”

“What’s a Cape Suzette?” Vera replied, baffled. “How do you not know where Vorschia is? Have you been living under a rock?”

“While I assume Vorschia is a key place wherever you’re from, where we’re from, we’ve never heard of it,” Huey said. He turned to Violet. “We must have teleported somewhere.”

“I’ll say,” the unicorn scoffed. “Vorschia is the capital city of Tyrocka. Maybe you guys are from the islands, and that’s why you don’t recognize it.”

“The islands?” Huey asked.

“Sylvania,” Vera said, with the air of talking to someone who lacked basic knowledge of the world. “You have to be from one or the other. Well, I suppose you could be from down under the equator, but that’s mostly uncharted territory. Given the civil war…”

She paused. “None of this makes any sense to you, does it?”

Huey and Violet mutely shook their heads.

Vera glanced around and up at the sky. To Huey’s dismay, the portal that had brought them there appeared to have vanished. How were they supposed to return home now? Violet’s tail curled around his, but he wasn’t sure if it was meant to bring comfort or remind him of her presence. His heart pounded.

“We’re not trapped here, are we?” Huey asked Violet in an undertone. Of course, given Vera’s proximity, she couldn’t help but overhear.

“What do you mean? You have wings. You can fly,” Vera scoffed. “You’re not landbound like I am.”

“It would appear we are for the time being,” Violet allowed. “I have never heard of magical portals opening before nor settling us in what may be a parallel universe.”

“String theory,” Huey said and frowned thoughtfully. “It’s possible.”

“It must be,” Violet murmured back. “How else would you explain this?”

Vera scowled, not used to being ignored. She tossed her head, and irritation flashed in her eyes. “I must present you to the Empress.”

“We should be looking for a way to get home,” Huey protested. 

“You would risk offending the Empress by refusing to meet with her?” Vera snapped. 

“Er, no,” Huey said, sensing a trap. “Of course not.”

“Then follow me,” Vera ordered. As soon as the unicorn had covered a sizeable distance, Huey and Violet alit in the other direction. If the Empress was as pushy as the unicorn, he wanted no part of her. Vera cried out upon spying them fly away, but she couldn’t do much more than run after them. Eventually, she would tire, and they’d be able to escape, though that would mean possibly getting turned around from the portal. It couldn’t be helped.

They put on more speed, flying until it felt like their wings might fall off. Soon, they left Vera and the grassy plains behind. They flew over forests and, unable to bear flying too much longer and aware they would be exhausted in strange territory, they descended. They found themselves in a small village tucked away within the forest. No, this didn’t resemble the United States at all. Where _was _Tyrocka, anyway?

A woman with tipped ears held out her hands when they approached the village. She had long, silky blonde hair and wore a green dress. Her hair flowed over onto her shoulders. Her blue eyes ought to have retained warmth from her smile, but they were icy and forbidding. Huey found himself taking an involuntary step back. 

“You will want to transform back into your human forms,” the woman said. Her eyes flashed. “My name is Denalia, and until you’ve proven yourself not to be Imperial spies, you’ll be held in suspicion by the Light Federation.”

Denalia’s eyes gleamed harshly. “Or do I need to force that change upon you?”

“No, no, we get it,” Huey said hurriedly. “We just...we don’t have any clothes. Or any idea what’s going on.”

Denalia whistled, and a strict looking man with black hair and grey eyes appeared out of thin air. He wore dyed leather pants and a blue tunic. He was solidly built, and, like Denalia, his ears were tipped. He had a square face and a scar on the right side of his upper lip. His hair was long and tied back in a queue. Unlike Denalia, who at least gave the hint of civility, the man’s lower lip curled in disdain. He wore a blade sheathed at his hip and didn’t seem the least bit shy about wielding it.

“I’ll take you to change, and Denalia will take Violet,” the man said. “My name is Illiyich. Come along, child.”

Before Huey had a chance to object, because the last thing he wanted was to be separated from Violet, Illiyich yanked him along. Huey dug his feet in, and although he was in dragon form, the man’s will superseded his, and he found himself walking regardless. Terror shot through him, and Illiyich sneered. Huey turned his head to yell for Violet, but by the time he could open his mouth, the females had vanished from sight.

“Shift,” the man ordered, although there was no need to say so aloud. Whether Huey wanted to or not, he was going to be forced into it. The power Illiyich wielded petrified him. No one person should be that strong. They called themselves the Light Federation--could they be the good guys? How could they be when they were subjugating him like this?

Huey shifted back into his humanoid form, and Illiyich made him walk into a small cottage. Within it was various supplies, and the cottage itself consisted of one room. With his back turned, Illiyich indicated Huey should dress. Self-conscious and always the biggest prude of the Dragon boys, he was horribly aware of Illiyich’s presence but powerless to complain. Was Denalia doing the same to Violet? Alarm shot through him.

“No, she’s not,” Illiyich said, answering Huey’s unspoken question. “She lacks the Spirit powers to do so. Your little friend is fine.”

Huey was starting to wonder if they might’ve been better off with Vera and the Empress. Illiyich snorted.

“Think what you will,” he said and then loosened the ties binding Huey. With a wave, they disappeared, and he could breathe, speak, and move of his own free will. Huey growled, almost wishing he had a weapon on hand.

“What’s the big idea?” he demanded. “How can you do that? Who _are _you? And what’s going on here?”

“You ask too many questions,” Illiyich said coldly. “All will be answered in due time or not at all. Come. We must ensure your little friend hasn’t drowned herself in damask.”

Sneering, he led Huey back to the small clearing, and Violet emerged from a similar cottage with Denalia’s hand on her back. Huey was surprised by how relieved he felt to see her unharmed. That relief turned to anger. If he weren’t careful, the traditional Dragon temper would flare.

“What the hell is going on?” Huey demanded.

“We might ask you the same thing,” Denalia replied. Her voice was soft and tender, almost encouraging, except for the poisonous undertones. “It’s not often we find strangers in our village.”

“Strangers who have an association with the Empress,” Illiyich said warningly.

“You read that in my thoughts. That doesn’t count,” Huey said hotly.

“The Empress?” Denalia replied, raising her eyebrows. “This just got a lot more interesting.”

He did _not _like the sound of that. Denalia released Violet and pushed her toward Huey, who reached for her hand. Violet took his hand and bristled, her aura shining purple. Denalia’s eyes narrowed. Purple was not a popular color around here. 

“Keep them sequestered while I convene the Elders,” Denalia ordered Illiyich. 

“But we haven’t done anything wrong!” Huey protested. 

“That remains to be seen,” Illiyich retorted. 

Huey didn’t like the sound of that either. He tried to reach out to Dewey and Louie but couldn’t feel them. Panic-stricken, he glanced at his only trustworthy companion, and she gazed back. He hoped he imagined the anxiety written on her ordinarily stoic features.


	4. Chapter 4

Lena frowned, staring at the space where Huey and Violet had last stood. Thanks to her previous altercation with Violet, she knew the mental ‘taste’ of her magic. Here was where the trail went cold. Clustered around her, Webby, Dewey, and Louie hovered. None of them could make heads or tails of this. It seemed like Violet and Huey had vanished into thin air.

After several hours had passed beyond their arrival time, they realized something was wrong. Huey and Violet were nothing if not punctual and that they were late now spelled trouble. Dewey was antsy, and although Louie concealed it, Lena knew Louie was worried too. It didn’t help that the trail had gone cold. Lena stretched her mental senses and came to the same result.

“They can’t have just disappeared,” Louie protested. “They had to have gone _somewhere_.”

“There’s a whiff of Aunt Magica’s magic about the air,” Lena said. “But that’s not much to go on.”

Indeed, Lena sensed the same taint that had lingered over St. Canard. The two had to be linked. But if Aunt Magica had attacked them, albeit inadvertently, there would have been evidence. There would at least be _something _to explain what had happened. Lena was at a loss. She glanced at Webby, and her heart pounded. She was trying to avoid thinking about what could’ve happened to Huey and Violet, especially because Huey was like a brother to her, and Violet was one of her friends.

“It’s nothing to go on,” Louie complained. His tail lashed. “There’s nothing. No sign of them? Nothing to go on? At all?”

“No,” Lena said. “It’s not like I enjoy giving you bad news.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Louie muttered, and Lena snapped her jaws near his tail. Louie startled, nearly falling out of the air. Lena snorted. He didn’t do a lot of flying. Then again, until recently, she hadn’t either. But no one ever said life was fair.

“Where do we go from here?” Webby asked aloud for Louie’s benefit. 

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted. “This is way beyond my level of expertise, pink.”

“We can’t just give up!” Louie snapped. “That’s our brother!”

“I didn’t say that!” Lena said, testy. “We need to focus on curing the corruption that my aunt spread. Once we do that, all of these magical anomalies should stop, and they should come back.”

“Come back?” Louie objected. “Come back from _where_?”

Ah, that was the question. Where, exactly, had they absconded to? Furthermore, were they safe? Lena’s heart pounded. They were flying blind. She wanted to bang her head into something, but one, there was nothing around besides her Bondeds and Louie and two, it wouldn’t help. She sighed.

“I’m sure they’re okay,” Webby lied, and in the Bond, they heard the discordant note, that wrong tune that struck within them. No one believed her—she didn’t believe herself.

* * *

Huey and Violet were sequestered in one of the cottages while Denalia and Illiyich conferred with the Elders. At least, that was what they had told them. Huey didn’t trust them. He trusted them even less than his mother’s old commune, which said something. The robes they’d given him, and Violet was baggy, and Huey hugged himself self-consciously. Violet didn’t appear perturbed by that, but then again, she was relatively unflappable. He admired that about her.

To reassure himself, he paced the small room and reviewed what they knew. The room was big enough to fit four or five people without being too crowded and had a window. Denalia and Illiyich had locked them in, but Huey thought they could break the lock without much difficulty. That would be a problem for a later time. For now, they could afford to give the illusion they were trapped.

Unless, of course, Illiyich seized control over him again. Huey shuddered. That was an experience he hoped never to repeat.

“We’re in the middle of a civil war,” Huey said. “We know that the Empress and this Light Federation at cross purposes. We also know that neither party seems entirely blameless.

“We followed a portal to get here, but we haven’t seen any portals to return home. We have to assume we’re stranded.”

Violet nodded. “We also have to assume that dragons stranded in this particular village happen all the time, because if it didn’t, they wouldn’t need two cottages full of supplies.”

“Right,” Huey said and then frowned. “The others have to be worried sick about us by now. We don’t know how much time has elapsed.”

“We also don’t know where we are in relation to where we’re from. We traveled a considerable distance, but the distance may be relative.”

“So when we get home, we don’t know where we’ll end up.”

“What I don’t get is if they’re supposed to be the good guys, why did they view us with such suspicion?” 

“And how many people do they capture and outfit?” 

They fell silent, each probing the situation for angles and ways out. Huey would’ve given his hat for Louie. Louie would’ve been conning everyone and playing the long game to get home. Not that Huey advocated his trickery, but it would have come in handy. Huey’s head felt empty without his customary hat, and he brushed his hair flat with his palm.

“They said ‘human,’” Violet said. “That means that they have humans. They didn’t die out as they did in our universe.”

“This seems less like a parallel universe and more like a total divorce from our reality.”

“But there must be similarities or else we couldn’t have slipped through,” she argued. She was probably right. Whatever was in common they would need more time and information to ascertain. 

Something moved out of the corner of Huey’s eyes, and he twisted his head around. A minuscule figure crawled out through the window, partially ajar, and darted off. Huey’s heart thudded. Whatever that was, it had been spying on them. He was sure. But he’d never seen a creature the size of his thumb before. Uneasy, he met Violet’s gaze.

He didn’t know what was going on, and the irrationality of this world unsettled him. Violet swallowed hard, nodding, sensing what he was thinking. That was another thing he admired about her. She could tell what he was thinking without needing to say it. He wondered if, although they’d done no courting, they had a nascent Bond. 

They waited for what felt like an eternity. He had no watch, and since they hadn’t carried anything when they’d transformed into dragons, he lacked his phone too. The disconnect was worrying. Then again, it wasn’t like he could have called someone from a parallel universe. They were stranded, after all.

Time stretched and elongated. Bereft of entertainment, Huey mentally reviewed the JWG. While there was nothing in it that would assist him, it was reassuring to repeat the words he’d long since memorized. If he closed his eyes, he could see the pictures and corresponding text. 

At long last, the door handle jiggled and unlocked. Huey opened his eyes and Illiyich grabbed him roughly, yanking him to his feet. 

“Where are you taking me? What about Violet?” Huey protested. 

“Silence,” Illiyich hissed and dragged him out of the room. Violet rushed after them, and Illiyich snarled, rounding on her. He gazed from one of them to the other and growled.

“Troublemakers,” he spat and froze Violet in place. Huey wrenched himself out of his grasp and noticed something. His lips curved into a thin smile.

“So you can’t control both of us at once,” Huey said. 

Illyich hissed. “A trifle.”

Violet glowered and glowed, a purple aura surrounding her. Her iridescent green scales, visible in her humanoid form, caught the sunlight from the window and momentarily captivated him. They must have done similarly to Illiyich because he paused and relinquished control over her. 

“He was controlling you earlier?” Violet demanded. At least, he assumed she was. She’d delivered that in her usual deadpan.

“We don’t have time for this,” Illiyich snapped. “Come with me, both of you. You need to be questioned by the Elders.”

“We’d prefer to do it on our own two feet,” Huey retorted.

“So be it. This is wasting enough time,” Illiyich barked. He stormed out the door and, shrugging, they followed him. The sense of danger lingered, and Huey’s hand found Violet’s again. She squeezed reassuringly, and they smiled at each other. His heart skipped a beat.

They followed him along a dirt path and toward a two-story building constructed of wood that looked like it’d been part of a tree initially. As they walked, they passed various people, all with tipped ears and a few with wings too. Huey wanted to study them in greater detail, but Illiyich’s pace prohibited lingering. He made a mental note to catalog it all later.

The oak doors stood open, and they traversed up a set of steps into a grand chamber. It looked like a courtroom, complete with a podium and rooms behind it. There were wooden chairs set up in a circle in front of the podium. The Elders were gathered behind the podium and in cushioned chairs. Illiyich shoved Violet and Huey toward the wooden chairs. 

Huey looked up. The ceiling was open to the sky, and he could see tree branches crisscrossing overhead. The room itself was airy, with many windows, albeit high up. The floor was rough dirt beaten down by many feet. Huey glanced over at Violet, who had chosen a seat and gestured for him to sit beside her. Illiyich took his place beside Denalia near the Elders, and they conferred in low voices. They were all wearing navy blue robes and had tipped ears. Otherwise, their appearances varied, save that they were all male. If Huey had to guess at their race, he’d have to say ‘elf,’ but he couldn’t be sure. They didn’t have elves in Dragonburg either.

The chamber was pleasantly warm, despite no fire in evidence. Then again, it seemed to be closer to summer than winter here. Huey’s throat tightened. 

At last, the Elders broke apart and gazed, as one, at Huey and Violet. The leader, a man with close-cut blonde hair with a sharp, curved nose and piercing glacial blue-gray eyes stepped forward. His bearing was regal, and his form slim. His hands were long and delicate, though looking at him made Huey envision the Elder wrapping his hands about someone’s throat. He winced. The man’s skin tone was likewise pale, bordering on albino/translucent. He could have been carved out of ice for all the warmth he exuded.

His gaze alighted upon the two of them, and he sneered. He glanced at Illiyich.

“You didn’t deign to learn their names, at least?” the man said disapprovingly. “My name is Quilo. And who might you two be?”

“I’m Huey,” Huey said. 

“Violet,” Violet said. “I must say, I’m unimpressed by your hospitality thus far.”

Quilo’s nostrils flared. “You dare bring dragons into our midst, Denalia? Illiyich?”

“They came to us first,” Illiyich said defensively.

“A likely story,” Quilo snapped. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “So be it. Let the questioning begin.”

“We haven’t done anything,” Huey said.

“That will be for us to determine, not you,” Quilo said coolly.

Huey’s eyes flashed draconic gold. His temper mounted again, and he swallowed it back. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing that, though. It’d erupt sooner or later.

“Where are you from?” Quilo demanded.

“Dragonburg,” Huey retorted. 

“I’ve never heard of it,” Quilo said. He turned to Illiyich and Denalia. “From which direction were they coming?”

“Vorschia,” Denalia pronounced, and a hush fell over the Elders. Quilo leaned on the podium before him and looked forbidding. 

“They came from the capital city and fled here. Why?” Quilo demanded.

Huey frowned. He didn’t know how to phrase this without sounding insane. Then again, the whole situation was bonkers. Clearing his throat and glancing at Violet, he straightened up.

“We met a purple unicorn who said she wanted to introduce us to the Empress,” Huey said. “We didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“You refused to meet the Empress?” Illiyich sneered. “You refused my aunt?”

That was interesting. Illiyich and this nameless Empress were on opposite sides. He filed that away for future reference. Cautiously, Huey replied, “Yes?”

“Are we expected to believe—“ Quilo began hotly, and Illiyich held up a hand. Searing pain lanced Huey’s temples, and he cried out, falling off his chair. Violet grabbed him to keep him from hitting the floor and propped him up. Was this what Lena had experienced? It felt like someone was rifling through his memories and invading his mind. Illiyich was looking into his innermost heart and dismissing almost everything as if Huey’s life meant nothing. 

“Mental attack?” Violet murmured in Huey’s ear.

“Yeah,” Huey managed through clenched teeth. 

“He’s not lying,” Illiyich announced. “His memories state the same. Also, there are portals between this world and wherever he came from, this Dragonburg.”

“Should we expect invasion?” one of the Elders asked, his breath a sharp inhale. “Does he bring others?”

“We’re not invading. We ended up here by accident,” Huey said. The words came from far away and felt disconnected from him. “If you’re going through my memories, you ought to be able to see that too.”

Illiyich frowned. “Hubert is incapable of duplicity mind to mind. He is telling the truth. However, we may be able to exploit these portals.”

“Wait. What?” Huey said, uncertain how they’d reached that point. It felt like Illiyich had jumped from Point A to point D without listing the steps in between. Violet’s jaw tightened.

“For escape?” that same Elder said, and Illiyich sneered, his face contorted with hatred.

“Recruits,” he announced and rounded on Huey and Violet. “Welcome, recruits, to the Light Federation.”

“We’re trying to find a way home! We’re not fighting in your army!” Huey objected. He would have jumped up, but his limbs still felt rubbery and weak.

“There’s nothing to prevent us from taking off from here,” Violet added.

“Except you’ve alienated the Empress,” Illiyich leered. “And snubbing us would leave you with enemies on all sides. There is no neutrality in this war. You’re either with us or against us.”

Huey scowled. If they fled here and Illiyich was right, then they’d be hunted by both sides. Even if they could find a neutral location, it might be hundreds or thousands of miles from here. He knew next to nothing about this world, though he knew he didn’t want to fight someone else’s war. 

“You’ve established you dislike dragons,” Violet pointed out. 

“We have a few dragons in our army,” Denalia said, stepping forward. “Including a white dragon. You two will make an admirable edition.”

Huey could practically hear his brothers refusing to fight. When they weren’t physically present, he could still feel them in his heart. It was slim comfort when he couldn’t feel them mentally. He already felt battered and alone.

Violet smiled at him, and he amended that statement. Not quite alone.

“What, precisely, is so bad about the Empress?” Violet inquired. 

Illiyich smiled, perhaps thinking that they’d sided with them. 

“And how do we know you’re not worse?” Huey added.

“You don’t,” Illiyich snapped. “But make your choice carefully, dragons. The option won’t be open for too much longer.”

“We’ll help you,” Huey said.

“You still haven’t told us what your disagreement is with the Empress,” Violet added.

“It began long ago,” Denalia said, and the Elders relaxed. “Excuse me for a minute.”

She issued a single command, and the Elders filed out, leaving them with Illiyich and Denalia. Denalia waved her hand, and a fragrant aroma filled the air. It relieved some of the tension, but not all of it. He distrusted both of them. 

“We can dispense with the formalities now, I believe,” she said and smiled at them. Again, her smile didn’t extend to her cold blue eyes.

“The Empress, Illiyich’s aunt, as he mentioned, is a cruel and vindictive dragon. She tortures people for information and sometimes for the hell of it. Her palace is populated by what she calls ‘servants,’ who are slaves she kills when the mood strikes her. She controls people's mind to mind via Dark Shards and uses her black unicorn army to menace the population. 

“Her daughter Saphina and her sons Miam and Abraxas are cut from the same cloth. However, we believe Stefan and Deborvak are malleable and might be amenable to our cause.”

“How long has she been ruling?” Violet queried, and Denalia sighed.

“Centuries,” Denalia said. “I realize this would destabilize the empire, but she’s a psychopath. You understand, don’t you? We can’t let someone whom the Dark Goddess has singled out for worship on Tyrocka to keep her position.”

“Your agent also used mind control,” Huey pointed out. “And immediately suspected us of treachery.”

“Illiyich is...overzealous,” Denalia explained. “He has come to blows with Prince Deborvak a few times, and Prince Deborvak has managed to wriggle free.”

“Not without a few lost scales and almost a lost tail,” Illiyich sneered, and there was a cruel gleam in his eyes.

“But we’re the good guys,” Denalia insisted. “You can trust us.”

Huey was reminded of the kelpies from that golf match. _“You can trust me. I’m the girl dragon.”_

“You haven’t treated us like you’re the good guys,” Huey reminded them.

Illiyich shrugged. “I have an ax to grind against the Imps. So sue me.”

He spoke nonchalantly, but there was acid in his tone. He looked like he would have liked to tear Huey and Violet limb from limb but was restraining himself in the name of “manners.” Huey wondered whether certain people were drawn to power and claimed one side or another not because they believed in it, but because they thought it made them superior to others. Despite Illiyich’s claims that he was a good guy, a lightsider, Huey didn’t believe it. Denalia was also withholding information.

“If the Empress has ruled for hundreds of years, then why haven’t you done anything before now?” Huey pointed out.

“We’ve been fighting for a long time,” Denalia said. “Many generations. It’s hard to beat someone who has almost no weaknesses. We think we have a way. Hmm, perhaps you help.”

“To take her when she’s vulnerable, we need to trick her into revealing herself,” Illiyich added. “In between transformations, for example. In her human form, her magic is less. She’s pregnant with her fifth child. Attacking the child ought to cause her to behave recklessly.”

“You’d attack an egg?!” Huey objected.

“Don’t be stupid,” Illiyich scoffed. “She’s in her human form to carry the child to term. We’d cause her to miscarry. Well, at this stage, it’d be more like a stillborn, but that’s a mere technicality.”

“That sounds like a villain’s plan!” Huey objected. (He had no idea how right he was, considering Glomgold had contemplated something similar).

“Don’t the ends justify the means?” Denalia asked sadly.

“No!” Huey protested. “I don’t know!”

Denalia smiled humorlessly. “See what we’re up against? To prevent more death and enslavement, we need to kill an innocent child.”

“But why should we help you?” Violet demanded. She had seized Huey’s hand and squeezed it.

“Simply put, you don’t have a choice,” Illiyich said. “Unless, of course, you have rescue coming?”

The way he said it, he knew they didn’t. He grinned, triumphant. Huey thought he was going to be sick. 

“With her destabilized and vulnerable, we can kill her. The Emperor will die after the Bond breaks—“

“The Bond?” Huey repeated. 

“Yes...do you not have it where you’re from?” Illiyich sneered.

“We do,” Huey said. There was the similarity they’d been looking for. “But if you break a Bond, doesn’t it cause mass magical corruption?”

“No?” Illiyich said, frowning and looking at Denalia in confusion. “Not the last time I checked? But then again, either one side dies or goes insane when the Bond is severed. We’ve never heard of both sides surviving a broken Bond.”

Until recently, Huey hadn’t either.

“Let us worry about the fallout,” Denalia told them. “We’ll handle everything from there. Your job will be to get in close.”

Huey’s mind whirled. If what Denalia and Illiyich had said was true, then the Empress was worse. They might be lying. If Huey took that chance and fled, the Light Federation would track them down. If he took the information to the Empress, she might kill him afterward. There were no good choices.

All he could hope was that Lena, Webby, and Dewey would be able to crack the corruption and bring himself and Violet home before that eventuality. Without being able to feel his brothers, he had no idea how much or how little progress they were making. All he knew was that if it hadn’t been for Violet, he might have gone insane.

Then again, there was still time. 

* * *

Lena knew it was a waste of time to visit her aunt, but she’d gone anyway. Magica stared through her, and it was unreal to see the menace from her childhood days not only unaware of her presence but unable to exact her vengeance. Lena didn’t pity her, she wasn’t _that _good of a person, but she felt a little bad. Webby sat beside Lena and took her hand. 

“She probably doesn’t know where Gladstone is either,” Webby said gently.

Magica startled at the name and then sank back into her stupor. They were in a small bedroom within the asylum and sat in chairs facing the bed. The bed was in the middle of the room, and opposite it was the windows. White curtains blew in the breeze. 

“She doesn’t know where anything is anymore,” Lena said. She gnawed the inside of her cheek. “I knew she was bad, but I had to see it for myself. The old bat dug her own grave.”

Lena stared down at the blue carpeted floor. She didn’t have to say it. Their feelings bounced back and forth, and Webby could read the sorrow buried in Lena’s heart, albeit far down. She squeezed her hand.

“We should go,” Webby said. 

Dewey was digging through Magica’s old books, such as they’d been able to recover, and stumbled out of the closet. 

“Hey, I think I found something,” he said. He produced a massive dusty tome and dropped it on the bed. Magica blinked, gazing at the book with slight interest. It was more animation than Lena had seen in her earlier. Whatever this book covered, it had her attention.

“What is it?” Webby asked. They didn’t have to speak aloud—they could have had the whole conversation in telepathy—but they didn’t think Magica was processing anything anyway.

The green cover had the script in a language Lena couldn’t read, and when she ran her fingers down its spine, a chill went down her own. She opened the book and then yelped. Somehow, the book had pricked her. Sucking on her finger, she watched the blood soak the frontispiece. 

“It’s linked to blood magic,” Magica said. She spoke tonelessly, and they whirled to stare at her.

“What is? The book?” Lena asked, and Magica nodded.

“What about blood magic?” Webby asked cautiously, keeping herself between the two de Spells in case there was trouble.

Magica shook her head, and her lower lip curled in disdain. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

She crashed back into the pillows and panted. “It’s about time you came into your birthright, Lena.”

“This is getting weird,” Dewey said.

“Getting? It already was, blue,” Lena scoffed. She looked over at her aunt. Magica’s gaze was blank again, and when Lena waved a hand over her face, her eyes didn’t track. Magica grabbed Lena’s wrist, tightly enough to bruise it, and then released it. Like that, Lena’s sense of her aunt dissipated, and Magica’s hand fell back to the bed. 

“There’s something in this book we need to keep an eye on,” Webby said. “Something dangerous.”

“And something that calls to Aunt Magica,” Lena said, frowning. “That’s the most animated she’s been in days, if not weeks. I have no idea what she meant about ‘coming into my birthright.’ But if it pricked me, it’s probably linked to the de Spell magical signature.”

“We should bring it home with us,” Webby said. “But, be careful.”

“We’re just going to steal your book, you crazy old bitch,” Lena told her aunt. “Don’t wait up for us.”

It was faint, but Lena could have sworn she heard her aunt whisper, “...ungrateful brat…”

It was official. This place was giving her the heebie-jeebies. They departed and, as Lena slid the door shut, she saw Aunt Magica’s gaze glued onto her. She shivered. She wasn’t sure that Magica regaining cognizance, even temporarily, was a good sign. This might be the calm before the storm broke.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author inserts herself. XD

Lena was staring at the book without processing anything. She couldn’t believe that her aunt had spoken with her and seemed cognizant of her surroundings. It was all because of the book Lena had open on her lap. Did this mean that Magica lurked within that storm somewhere and might be brought back? It was unprecedented, but then again, this whole situation was. And Magica hadn’t attacked her, which was another peculiarity. Normally, Magica didn’t stint on chances to assault her niece.

Then there was the book itself, which Lena couldn’t read. Webby and Dewey had gone to sleep already, and Lena remained awake, flicking pages back and forth with no real goal in mind. She didn’t know what she was doing, and she wanted to ask her aunt what was going on. Of course, that didn’t mean it was safe. Things with Aunt Magica were seldom, if ever, clear-cut. And Lena knew that Magica could attempt to hurt her, though, with the amulet, that would be unlikely.

It was too easy to sneak out and arrive at the asylum. Tricking the attendants into letting her in was slightly more complicated, and she stopped to take a breath outside of her aunt’s door. It wasn’t locked, so far as she could tell. Her nerves felt like glass and about to shatter. Swallowing hard, she steeled herself for anything. 

It had taken cunning to trick her way past the guards; in the end, she’d used magic to conceal herself. It was more magic than she was used to employing at once. Maybe she should have listened to her aunt’s lessons, but they’d been so dull, and she hated her so much. 

That thought brought Lena up short. If she wanted her aunt so much, then why was she here? Surely she’d have been happier curled up with her Bondeds and left this problem for later. She gulped. There was the possibility her aunt would tell her more if she was alone. There was also the possibility Magica would attack her, and Lena shuddered. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

With trepidation, she pressed her hand to the door, which clicked open at her touch. It had been locked, then. Lena stepped through and found her aunt’s gaze upon her. 

“What are you waiting for?” Magica demanded. “Shut the door.”

Lena pushed the door closed and leaned against it to give her strength. 

“You shouldn’t be--”

“What? Conscious? Aware of my surroundings?” Magica threw back at her. “I spend enough of my time in a fog. It’s only when you’re physically here that I can do anything about it.”

Magica smiled humorlessly. “My dear, dumb little Lena--I linked my magic to yours. So did Gladstone. You have enough of both of us to tether me to reality. For the time being.

“Or didn’t you notice that the only times I was cognizant was when you were actually here?”

Magica scoffed and then looked around. “You didn’t bring Dingbat and Webster.”

“Don’t call them that,” Lena snapped, tensing. 

Magica shrugged, unperturbed by her niece’s outrage. Again, Lena questioned her sanity. She oughtn’t to be here, let alone at one in the morning. She was leaving herself vulnerable to the worst possible person. All she needed to do was give Magica a little wiggle room, and she’d destroy her. 

She needed her, though, for that damn book. Lena brought it out from her satchel and dumped it on Magica’s bed. 

“Ah, yes, this,” Magica said. She paused, pain suffusing her features. Forehead crinkled, eyes pinched shut tight, and gasping for breath, she dug her nails into the bedsheets. Her teeth were gritted, and her breath came out in a hiss. Lena was afraid to ask.

“Aunt Magica?” Lena ventured after Magica seemed lost in her mind for a few minutes.

“...give me a minute…” Magica panted. After another minute, her breathing slowed down, back to normal, and she opened her eyes. She looked pale and shaken, not unlike how Lena had looked after one of Magica’s mental attacks. The thought made Lena grapple for the doorknob, and she chastised herself. She was here for a reason, not to succumb to blind panic.

“Would you believe that those damned headaches I gave you rebounded on me?” Magica snapped, still a little breathless. “I get them all the time when I’m aware enough to notice. It’s like having a thunderstorm in my head.”

“If you’re expecting me to feel sorry for you, it’s not happening,” Lena said flatly.

“I suppose the Bond is what prevented you from suffering a permanent brain injury,” she sniffed, as though this was a personal failing. Lena glowered. 

“Just tell me about the stupid book, old woman,” she ordered.

“Give me a minute to recover, you brat,” Magica spat.

“Oh, no. You didn’t give me an inch. Why should I help you?” 

“If it weren’t for that thrice-damned amulet, I would have been able to keep attacking you. Maybe then you would have done what I told you.”

“That’s not helping your case.”

Magica scoffed again. There was a strange magical pressure in the air; it was as if the air surrounding them was about to burst into the magical equivalent of a thunderstorm. It made the hairs on Lena’s arms stand on end. 

“Besides,” Lena added caustically, “you got what you wanted. You’re back in your humanoid form, and you have your powers.”

“This was not how I wanted things, and you know it!” 

“The book!” Lena snapped, striding forward and shaking it in her aunt’s face. “Tell me about the book.”

Magica raised her hand and slapped Lena across the face. It was a weak blow, probably because her aunt hadn’t been eating much before. The idea of it smarted more than the actual attack. Lena shuddered, anticipating a mental attack that never came. Magica was watching her.

“You ungrateful brat. I raised you--”

“Raised me? You treated me like crap and then tried to kill me multiple times!” Lena countered.

“Because you don’t know how to follow orders!”

“I’m your niece, not your soldier!”

Magica reached over and yanked the amulet off. Lena was too surprised to stop her. Closing her eyes, Magica pushed energy at her niece. It didn’t touch her. Again, Magica tried, and again, nothing happened. Frustrated, the older dragon screamed.

“And now you’re untouchable because of Wendy and Dewdrop,” Magica groused.

A weight she hadn’t even known she’d been carrying sloughed off her shoulders. She didn’t need the amulet to protect herself. Magica _was _powerless. The relief was so great she used the wall to keep herself upright. Not only was Magica powerless, but Lena was free. 

Of course, when she returned to McDragon Manor, she was in for a nasty lecture, but she’d worry about that later.

“Tell me about the book, or I’m leaving, and you can kiss your sanity goodbye,” Lena said. She had leverage over her. She felt wonderful, though; behind that, she felt a little guilty for being so pleased.

Magica glowered. 

“Your split with Gladstone affected more than your sanity,” Lena added. 

“I know,” Magica snapped. “I heard your conversation earlier. You’re trying to fix the corruption that Gladstone is causing.”

Her lips twisted toward a sad smile. “I suppose I should be glad that he’s still alive.”

“‘Alive’ isn’t the term I’d use,” Lena scoffed, shaking her head. Magica frowned, and if Lena didn’t know any better, she’d say her aunt looked contrite. At the very least, she didn’t appear happy to hear the news.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him. He wouldn’t let me take my revenge on you, and I lashed out at him.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” 

Lena folded her arms across her chest. Any lingering guilt she felt over her aunt’s state had vanished. She snatched the amulet off the bed and eyed the chain. The clasp was broken--she’d need to get that repaired, although she didn’t require the necklace any longer. Maybe she could get Webby or Dewey to give her another in its stead, assuming they weren’t too pissed with her for this late-night trip.

“A little sympathy wouldn’t hurt,” she bristled.

“You’re not getting it from me,” Lena retorted. Her eyes flashed. “The corruption that’s spreading is because _you _perverted the Bond magic to suit your fancy, and Gladstone rebelled against it. The magic itself rebelled against it.”

“There’s a simple solution. Catch Gladstone, and the corruption should stop.” Magica sniffed as if Lena was too dense to have figured that out.

“Simple for you, maybe. We can’t find him. He travels pretty fast for a hollowed-out shell of a person.”

Magica cringed. She gazed down at the bedspread as if it was the most exciting thing in the room. After a minute, she looked up at Lena. 

“I never meant to hurt him.”

“Yeah, you said that. I don’t believe you. And don’t tell me ‘he got in my way,’ because that’s bullshit. You never wanted to be Bonded in the first place.”

“And you’re not going behind your Bondeds’ backs right now?” Magica rejoined. “Or did you inform your stupid pink Bonded that you were coming here?”

Lena didn’t reply, and Magica scoffed. 

“That’s what I thought, dumb little Lena.”

“Stop calling me that,” Lena snapped. “I came here for you to tell me about the book if you could, not to be berated. So tell me about the book, or I’m leaving.”

Magica rolled her eyes. “The book is coded to your magical signature through the bloodline. That’s why it took your blood earlier, to determine whether you were worthy of reading it.”

“But I can’t read it,” Lena said. 

“That’s because you don’t know the proper incantation,” Magica gloated.

“I don’t suppose you’d give it to me...oh, no, wait, who am I kidding? You’re going to be a total bitch about this, aren’t you?” Lena groused.

“Watch your tongue when you address me!”

“Or what? You’ll give me another sad attempt at a slap? You have no power over me anymore. You can’t control me. Like it or not, I’m the only hope you have at _anything_. So suck it up, dear aunt.”

They glowered at each other for a minute, as if taking the measure of each other. It didn’t suit Magica to grovel or debase herself in front of a lifelong enemy, and it didn’t suit Lena to cede ground now that she had the upper-hand. Maybe a long time ago, she might have felt something approximately love for her aunt. That had died years ago. 

“If you had died when I wanted you to, none of this would have happened,” Magica complained.

“Well, excuse me for not following your grand plan and getting myself killed!” Lena spat. “Did it ever occur to you that if you _had _succeeded, Gladstone would have broken the Bond anyway? No one wants to be Bonded to a murderer.”

“Tell that your dear Webster,” Magica rejoined.

“That was different. That was self-defense. Black Heron was trying to kill her. This is pre-meditated. And would it kill you to call her by her proper name? It’s _Webby_.”

“I know it is. But it pisses you off when I call her anything else.”

Lena threw her hands in the air. “You know what? I give up. Keep your damn secrets. I’ll find out somewhere else. And I’ll track down Gladstone without your help, not that you were that much help, to begin with.”

“Wait,” Magica pleaded. “I’m only sane when you’re around.”

“Then maybe you should stop jerking me around and start helping?” Lena suggested coldly. “Because it looks like you need me more than I need you.”

Magica glowered, unappreciative of the reminder. Lena couldn’t care less. 

Webby pushed at the barriers Lena had erected, and Lena felt guilty for keeping her and Dewey at bay, but it was necessary. It didn’t escape her notice that Magica had started down this road by keeping secrets and attempting to manipulate her Bonded, and Lena was now keeping secrets too. But she didn’t intend to keep them for long.

Webby battered at the barriers now. It _hurt_, which was surprising considering that the barriers were mental walls she’d erected. Webby could be quite forceful when she wanted to be.

The stalemate continued. Magica slammed open the book and sighed, repeating a series of words that Lena supposed she ought to pay attention to.

_“Heed my words and obey me, O Tome de Spell. I am the rightful owner of these spells, and the power belongs to me_,” Magica chanted. The words swirled on the page and became, to Lena’s profound relief, ordinary English. She was less relieved when her distraction prompted Webby to crash through her barriers. As it turned out, Lena wasn’t proficient in handling the Bond and real-life too well. 

_((_Why are you with Magica de Spell?_)) _Webby demanded.

((Relax, pink. She just told me how to use the book. I’m fine.))

((You snuck out of the house in the middle of the night,)) Dewey added.

((And we were worried sick about you,)) Webby added. 

((Look, guys, I’m sorry. But I thought I’d get more out of her if I went by myself. She didn’t hurt me.))

((I bet she tried,)) Webby said darkly.

((She can’t hurt me anymore,)) Lena replied.

((You still shouldn’t have snuck out of the house and left us!)) Webby said. ((What if she could still hurt you? What if she can, and she’s holding back? Every second you’re with her, you’re in danger.))

Along with Webby’s thoughts came deep concern and love, and Lena felt ashamed. Webby might be upset, but it was coming from a good place. Webby adored her, heaven knew why, and she’d let her and Dewey down. Her shoulders slumped. She had the answers she needed from her aunt. It was time to leave.

((I’ll be back as soon as I can,)) Lena promised.

((Or maybe we should come to get you,)) Webby countered.

Lena grabbed the book and was about to stash it in her bag when she noticed that Magica was still holding onto it. Snarling, she wrenched it out of her aunt’s hands. 

“They’re still holding you back, aren’t they?” Magica said. “They don’t want you to learn deeper magic because they see you---”

“Save it,” Lena spat. “I know how they see me. And it’s nothing like the way you’re describing. They love me. No one loves you, not even my dad.”

She’d intended the words to wound, and they had. Magica looked away for a second before launching herself at Lena and yanking on her arm so hard that Lena thought she might dislocate it. 

((No!)) Webby cried in Lena’s mind as the Bond sent a corresponding wave of pain to her and Dewey. This was part of the reason Lena had tried to block them out. If she got hurt, at least it’d only be her, not all three of them. The last thing she wanted was for anyone else to suffer because of her stupidity.

Lena took the book in her non-dominant hand and gave her aunt a heavy blow to the face. Her aunt’s grip loosened, and Lena smacked her again, so hard that she dazed her. Throwing the book into her backpack, she snorted.

“What do you know? Books _are _good for something,” Lena said. In her mind, her Bondeds were unamused. She turned her back to her aunt, which was a mistake as Magica flung herself at her again.

“Take me out of here!” Magica demanded. “Get me out now, you ungrateful brat!”

It felt like Lena was wearing her aunt like a cape. Her right arm still ached from Magica’s previous assault, and she didn’t have the book to hit her with. It was stowed in her backpack, which Magica was blocking access to. Lena slammed her aunt up against a wall, and Magica’s grip tightened around her neck.

“You can’t kill me,” Lena snapped. “If I do, your sanity goes out the door too.”

Power rushed through her and briefly overrode her arm’s weakness. Webby and Dewey were lending her strength though they were also, to Lena’s horror, heading this way. She could sense their departure. They wouldn’t get here in time, but it was a nice thought. 

“I may not be able to kill you, but I will still have my vengeance! One way or another!” her aunt declared, and Lena retaliated by banging her head into the wall. A few more times and Magica slipped from her shoulders to collapse onto the floor. It was only then that Lena realized, with the door open, someone was bound to have heard the fight. And who was going to believe that a formerly comatose patient had attempted to kill her visitor, who wasn’t even supposed to be here? Fuck. It was a good thing she’d married into money and power because she still might end up arrested. It wouldn’t be as bad as if she were still a de Spell/le Strange, but it’d be bad enough.

Sure enough, an orderly was running toward them. Lena held up her hands and glanced around. There was a security camera in the corner, which lifted her spirits. They wouldn’t have to take her word for it, which they wouldn’t anyway. Given their history, no one would’ve believed Lena at her word.

“What is going on here?!” the orderly demanded. She was a large female dragon in humanoid form with purple scaling on her cheeks and curly brown hair. She wore royal blue scrubs and a smartwatch on her left wrist. Phoenix earrings dangled from her ears. 

“Explain,” the orderly demanded; she was eyeing Magica prone on the floor and Lena standing and smiling sheepishly. 

“You’re never going to believe this,” Lena said, and the orderly fixed her a dark look. 

“Try me.”

“You might want to try the security cameras first,” Lena suggested. The orderly glowered and reached for a small walkie-talkie on her belt. 

“Requesting backup for Magica de Spell’s room, room 404. Yes, I know the woman is comatose. No, I don’t know what happened, but I’m about to get to the bottom of it,” she snapped.

The orderly’s brown eyes flashed draconic gold. “Come with me.”

Left with no choice and groaning, knowing how this looked, Lena trotted after her. Maybe she ought to be grateful that Dewey and Webby were coming soon. Perhaps they could help her figure a way out of this mess.

“Sit,” the orderly snapped and shoved Lena into a chair in the security center. She turned to the security expert, a man with brown hair and golden eyes. He swiveled smartly at the orderly’s voice. 

“What’s going on, Beverly?” the security guard demanded. He was slender with a slight paunch, and he scratched the back of his neck self-consciously. “What is it?”

“This one here, who shouldn’t have been in the building in the first place, attacked a comatose patient,” Beverly snapped. “I need to see the video. Magica de Spell’s room, 404.”

The man frowned but keyed it up for her. He rewound the selection about twenty minutes back and then hit the sound. Lena waited for vindication unless Magica had found a way to screw with the cameras, which would be right up her alley anyway.

Thankfully, Magica had been too focused on her newfound and brief flirtation with sanity to destroy the cameras. Lena relaxed as the footage played, and Beverly and the security guard exchanged shocked looks. Without a word, Beverly yanked Lena out of her chair and tugged her along. 

“Where are we going?” Lena groused. “Hands off.”

Beverly released her but didn’t look happy about it. “I need to call Scrooge McDragon. He said to alert him any time if anything changed in Magica’s behavior.”

“You, uh, you don’t need to do that,” Lena said, sheepish.

“Oh?” Beverly demanded and stood in the middle of the hallway with her hands on her hips. They were near what passed for a library in the asylum, which was a couple of lop bookshelves worth of books. Lena pointed toward the front door, where Dewey and Webby stood.

“Because one of my Bondeds is Scrooge McDragon’s grand-nephew.”

The orderly sighed as if Lena had purposefully set out to ruin her night and then headed over to the door. Using her keycard, she waved it open, and Webby and Dewey rushed in. 

“Now, what the hell is going on?” Beverly demanded. “And why are you here at one in the morning?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” Lena said weakly. Beverly raised her eyebrows. “Okay, maybe not that funny.”

“What were you thinking?” Webby demanded.

“I was thinking that I could help, pink, and I can,” Lena said. 

“Whatever,” Beverly said, clearly not in the mood to wade into a tiff. “I’m calling Mr. McDragon. You can all settle this amongst yourselves.”

“What were you thinking?” Webby demanded again once the orderly had left.

“I thought I could help, and I did. I got the chant to reveal the book’s spells,” Lena said. 

“You could’ve been killed,” Webby hissed.

“She wouldn’t have killed me,” Lena said, but it was not an idle boast. “She needs me to stay alive now. If I die, she loses her sanity permanently.”

“She still tried to dislocate your arm,” Dewey said.

“I’m fine now,” Lena said. “Can we just go?”

“Uncle Scrooge is going to want to talk to you,” Webby said, and Lena groaned. This was a right mess she’d dug herself into. Oh, well. Nothing to do but grin and bear it. Then again, if she thought her Bondeds’ scrutiny was bad, she was probably in for a rude shock.

* * *

Violet and Huey had insisted on staying together, and they’d been given one of the storage cottages to bed down in. Their “beds” consisted of blankets strewn across the hard, dirt-packed floor, but it was better than nothing. Huey’s heart raced. This was the first time he’d been alone with Violet at night. Of course, they were in a heap of trouble, and now was not the time for those thoughts, but he couldn’t control it. 

“I wonder how they want us to get close to the princes,” Huey said to shove the thoughts away for the time being.

The only thing keeping him from turning around and telling the Imperials about it was that he was pretty sure the Empress would take the information and then kill them. That was if what Denalia and Illiyich had said was to be believed. He had agreed to help them because he didn’t want to earn their ire, but he wasn’t at all confident that it was the right thing to do. 

Before bedding down, they had checked to ascertain whether there was a way to sneak out of the village. There were sentries posted everywhere, as well as a magical barrier cordoning them from the outside world. Escape wasn’t an option. Huey had anticipated as much.

“And whether the princes are as ‘malleable’ as they claim,” he continued.

“I would like to believe that there is a rational side to this war,” Violet said and then grimaced. “But reading history has taught me otherwise.”

“I don’t want to fight their war for them,” Huey complained.

“Nor do I,” she said. “And the method they’ve chosen bring down the Empress is despicable.”

“But we only have their word for it that everything is as they say.”

“And without the opportunity to observe for ourselves…” she agreed. She turned her back to him, and his heart sank. Then she surprised him by shifting closer so that her back was pressed against his chest. Without thinking about it, he wrapped his arms around her waist. His heart pounded, and she glanced over at him. Maybe he was misreading the situation. It was bound to happen. After all, he tended to overthink and--

She kissed him. That short-circuited his train of thought, and he kissed her back without considering the consequences. She smiled against his lips. Shifting in his arms, she pressed her chest against his and draped her arms over his shoulders.

He’d heard stories of what one’s first kiss ought to feel like. It ought to be fireworks and feeling like his whole body was lit up from within. This wasn’t quite like that. Instead, it was like a slow burn, the comforting feel of his JWG in his hat, and knowing that he wasn’t alone. She nipped at his lip, and he opened his mouth for her to deepen the kiss. 

To his surprise, he felt a faint heartbeat that seemed to hover between the two of them. Was this what Dewey had experienced? The Bond had chosen himself and Violet? He couldn’t help but grin, even as he kept kissing her.

Maybe, as horrible as this particular world seemed, it wouldn’t be as awful as he’d thought because they’d face it together. (Man, that sounded cheesy). 

After a while, fatigue seized both of them, and they stopped kissing to relax in each other’s arms. Their heads brushed against each other as they fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look, it’s some friendly faces! Yay, friendly faces! This is a shorter chapter, mostly because I was trying to get back into the groove. 
> 
> I need to work on my novel again too. That's why the update for City of Angels will be late. xD

Illiyich roused them at dawn, and they trudged, half-awake, toward the dining hall. For a few glorious moments, Huey had thought this was a horrible dream. He had awoken to discover otherwise. To his consternation, the entire village had turned out in the dining hall, and everyone turned to stare at them. They were the only humanoids here. 

Violet sat close to him and scanned the room to ascertain whether there might have been any sympathetic people here. Unless he’d miscalculated, he’d found no one either. She sagged in her seat; Huey surveyed the top table, where Denalia, Illiyich, and the other Elders sat. Illiyich gave them the evil eye as he ate his eggs. 

Huey glanced down at his plate; the eggs looked overcooked and unappealing. The sausage beside it didn’t resemble meat, and he sniffed at it. It was vegetarian. It stood to reason that the eggs were too. He revised his opinion. There must not have been many dragons here before, because most dragons found vegetarian options unpalatable. Between the food and the situation, what little appetite he had fled. 

After a while, the chatter resumed, though not without sidelong glances at Huey and Violet. Violet was quiet, processing everything, and Huey missed his brothers. Louie would’ve figured out a way to game the system by now, and Dewey would be trying to befriend someone here. As for his sister, Webby would’ve kicked Illiyich’s ass. He smiled. 

Breakfast dragged until Huey wanted to scream. Finally, Illiyich and Denalia rose, wended their way through the tables, and arrived at their side. Huey’s stomach clenched, and Violet brushed her hand against his under the table. He understood her caution--they didn’t need more ammunition. He wasn’t sure when he’d started to think of them as the enemy.

Denalia gestured for them to follow them outside and, once they stood within a clearing, she erected a magical soundproof barrier. The morning was uncommonly chilly, and Huey stood with his hands in his pockets and hunched over. Violet huddled close to him to provide him her body heat. 

“Here’s a map,” Denalia said. “And some provisions.”

She handed over a leather knapsack. “You should return to Vorschia, but don’t attempt to enter the palace. You have no credentials and no influence yet. When the time comes, you should be able to enter with impunity, but until then, don’t push your luck.”

“Unless you’ve changed your mind?” Illiyich sneered. “You could always forsake the mission.”

“You’re not giving us a choice,” Huey pointed out.

“There’s always a choice. I never said it was a good one,” he retorted. Huey bristled.

“Good luck. Remember--make contact, but don’t arouse suspicions. If it looks like the mission is compromised, then back out,” Denalia said, shooting Illiyich a warning look. Illiyich shrugged. 

“We’re certain that one of the princes will take the bait. Just in case, however, tread carefully.”

Reluctantly, Huey took the proffered items and slipped the bag onto his back. While he wasn’t looking forward to being someone’s pawn, maybe adventuring back to where they’d started would reveal a new way back to their world. If that weren’t the case, perhaps they’d find someone more sympathetic to their cause. Or at least less caustic. Huey did not feel welcome here, and he knew Violet felt the same.

Denalia and Illiyich removed the barrier impeding them and, once they were clear of it, he was sure they’d erect it again. 

Without another word, they launched into the air; they shifted as they went, aware that they would need new clothes and hoping that Denalia had provided suitable attire. It seemed amazing to him that after all that scrutiny, this hostile village would allow them to leave, but Huey didn’t deceive himself into thinking that they were going without an escort. Something or someone would be keeping track of them as they traveled throughout this strange land. They weren’t “off the hook.” 

Nonetheless, they were freer than they had been. Huey wasn’t about to complain. He’d consult the map while they flew, but he was certain the map would fly away if he did so. Beside him, Violet soared up higher, and he chased after her. His heart pounded, and he could feel that strange second heartbeat between them. It pulsed in time with his wingbeats, and he launched himself higher, trying to catch her. Violet flashed him a smile before catching a thermal.

He reviewed what precious little they knew, and none of it reassured him. He didn’t know what the princes looked like--would they wear a symbol of their office? He didn’t know what kind of reception he could expect in the town bordering the palace. Moreover, he didn’t know if that black unicorn was awaiting their return. He would’ve had goosebumps if he’d had a form amenable to that. 

He focused on what they could control. After all, while he might not be able to control the situation, he could shape his reactions to it. Unfortunately, that advice was useless when he had no idea what to anticipate. He hated change, especially when it fell on him out of nowhere. He hated risk, too, and this whole endeavor was one giant question mark.

Huey rode the thermal too, and while it might have buoyed Dewey’s spirits, it did nothing for him. They had to focus on their destination and what might await them. 

As before, he reached out to his brothers and, as before, he found only emptiness. He glanced at Violet--would it be possible to Bond with her without the ceremony? Wait, what was he thinking? That was far further than they’d gone. And even if he couldn’t deny that he’d entertained the thought, he had no idea if she felt the same stirrings that he did.

Violet was hovering in a thermal and waiting for him. They flew in spirals around each other, and his heart thudded. They’d kissed last night, but he might have been jumping to conclusions. Or maybe he was overthinking this. He tended to overthink things.

“Yes,” she said, and he startled, wondering what she could be responding to. She didn’t smile, but her eyes twinkled. She swatted at him with her tail.

“Yes, what?” he asked.

“You’re so transparent,” she said and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to work for it, then.”

“Work for what? What are you talking about?” he demanded. With a smirk, she put on a spurt of speed and raced off. Had she been saying ‘yes’ to sharing in the Bond’s connection? Or was he imagining it? How could she know what he was thinking without his telling her? 

He rushed after her and, without thinking, clutched her to him. His heart went into overdrive, and he backed off. He didn’t want to push her. She turned her head towards him and smiled playfully.

“At least wait until we land,” she cajoled. Heart in his throat, he followed her lead back to Vorschia. His mind raced. For what was he supposed to wait? What was she planning? Should he be concerned? His tail swished in the air like a rudder. 

Now he wished he’d asked Dewey what it felt like to enter into a courting. He’d never thought it would happen to him. With Louie, he’d known his youngest brother wouldn’t court, but Huey had thought, as the older, responsible brother, he had a duty toward his family and wouldn’t Bond unless it was necessary. He thought he’d have to forge alliances or marry for diplomatic reasons.

The situation had changed. He was free to pursue who he wanted, which gave him untold freedom. Plus, no one here knew him or Violet, aside from that village and the black unicorn Vera. He didn’t have to labor in anyone’s shadow or worry about his younger brothers. Even if his brothers were in danger, he had no way of knowing or being able to help. Their problems were their own, not for him to solve. He whooped.

Immediately, he felt guilty. He shouldn’t be so eager to discard his burdens. Yet, they were in uncharted territory. Anything could happen. Anything at all.

Plus, there were new cultures to study and new magic to catalog. He might not have the JWG on hand, but he could take copious mental notes. Violet would help him remember. Assuming they didn’t encounter any more hostile groups, time in Tyrocka might not be too bad. You had to look on the bright side of things.

Accentuate the positive and all that. 

Granted, that was getting harder as rain lashed their wings and battered their bodies. Their third eyelids nictated, keeping out the water and preventing them from losing sight. Nonetheless, it didn’t make for pleasant flying. The closer they headed to Vorschia, the worse the torrential downpour grew. Huey wasn’t one to believe in omens or superstitions (science explained everything, even magic), but he approached Vorschia with a sense of dread. Thunder boomed, and lightning lashed the land. Black storm clouds hovered above them; the clouds were pregnant with rain. 

A lightning bolt struck within inches of Huey’s tail, and he yelped, deciding they had better continue their journey on land. It was too perilous to proceed by flight, regardless of how much time walking would add. They might be able to wait out the storm with a friendly creature, provided there were such people here. Huey had to hope for the best in people, no matter that he’d been disappointed recently.

They descended, and Huey had no idea how much further it was to the capital. Given the dreary reception they’d already had, he almost didn’t want to know. 

* * *

A bedraggled and irritated Scrooge McDragon met them in the asylum’s security center. He took in Lena, Webby, Dewey, the orderly, and the head of security with a glance. Then he looked at the security footage. Without a word, the orderly replayed it. As the video played, Lena glanced at her Bondeds. Somehow, seeing it was worse than living it. Dewey and Webby were giving her pointed gazes now, and she couldn’t meet their eyes.

“Ye could’ve been killed, lass!” Scrooge snapped.

Lena had no ready retort. He was right. When she dared to lift her head, Webby looked incensed and felt so through the Bond. Distantly, Lena was impressed. It took a lot to upset her. Then she realized just how deep she was in, and her mood dipped.

“And not from lack of trying, either,” Webby said. “I know you wanted to help, but you couldn’t have waited until we were awake?” 

“She wouldn’t have said that much to anyone else,” Lena retorted.

“And, again, ye almost got killed for it!” Scrooge rejoined. “Even if, as you say, she cannae live without you, that wouldnae stop her from rendering you insane too.”

“And dragging us down with you,” Dewey reminded Lena as if she’d needed it.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Lena burst out, feeling like she was trapped on the defensive. “But we needed that information! And there was no other way of getting it!”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Go ahead and yell at me some more, then. I don’t care.”

“Lena, we’re angry at you because we love you,” Webby said quietly. “I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t want Magica to hurt you again.”

Lena’s arm twinged, reminding her that Magica had nearly wrenched it earlier. She avoided cradling it or drawing more attention to her injuries. She could still feel her aunt’s attacks, and her throat tightened.

“She cannae do anything when Lena isn’t present, can she?” Scrooge asked no one in particular.

“No, she’s comatose otherwise,” the orderly said. She flicked back toward the camera, where they found Magica in bed again and staring sightlessly ahead. 

“Right, so, nothing bad happened, let’s go,” Lena said and started to walk away, but Scrooge held up a hand. 

“Not so fast, lass. I know what I saw, but I want to know how you plan on defeating Gladstone and ending this scourge,” Scrooge said. “Ye said ye couldnae have done this without Magica de Spell’s help. Fine. But what were your next steps? Or were you hoping inspiration would strike later?”

“Uh...the second one,” Lena said sheepishly.

“Argh, ye cannae just run off and hope for the best!” Scrooge reprimanded. “Ye need a plan.”

“So, you’re not mad at me?” Lena said, and Scrooge glowered.

“I didnae say that,” he scolded. “But we cannae let this remain this way. And since we’re all awake and here, it’s time to strategize. No more blindly reacting to things. And no more risking yer life, Lena.”

Lena balled her fists. She wouldn’t be risking her life; she was dragging Webby and Dewey with her too. This had been her original objection to Bonding. She hadn’t wanted to hurt the ones she loved. It didn’t matter what happened to her. 

Webby cupped her cheeks in her hands and, standing on tiptoe, kissed her. 

“You idiot,” Webby said softly, affectionately. “I love you. Don’t do this again.”

Like that, Webby’s anger receded, and Lena breathed easier. Dewey still looked cross, but Webby’s relief threatened to wash it away. 

“I won’t,” Lena promised.

“Now, we need to commandeer your breakroom,” Scrooge ordered. His eyes gleamed. 

A few minutes later, they had shooed out the lone nurse and sat around a beaten fake-wood table. Behind them and to the side were vending machines and a coffee maker sat near a sink. Notices and bulletins lined the board to the other side. It looked like a dreary place to spend a break; then again, this place was depressing anyway. 

“Have ye made heads or tails of the book yet?” Scrooge asked Lena, and Lena shook her head.

“I haven’t had a chance to look at it,” she admitted. “Aunt Magica only showed it to me before attacking me.”

Webby scowled. The three Bondeds sat opposite Scrooge. Webby took one of Lena’s hands, and Dewey took the other. Thankfully, neither was upset with her anymore. The book rested between them on the table, and Scrooge lifted the cover.

“Don’t!” Lena said. “You heard what Aunt Magica said.”

“Aye, I did,” Scrooge said. “But I donnae trust that woman as far as I can throw her.”

He opened the book, and Lena leaned over, expecting the book to draw blood from him or throw him against the wall. It didn’t. The words swam before her eyes before settling into plain English. Lena released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. It was, after all this, an ordinary book. 

“We don’t know where to begin,” Webby pointed out. 

“Then that’s where we should start,” Scrooge said, frowning. “Is there a pattern in where Gladstone’s wandering?”

Lena exchanged glances with her Bondeds. As far as she could tell, there hadn’t been any rhyme or reason to his travails. He seemed to be heading west, as far as that went, stopping by every major metropolitan city as he went. _Was _there a pattern to that? Why hit every named city?

She realized that her thoughts had slid into Webby’s without any noticeable shift. Sometimes it surprised her how they worked together now. Lena smiled. Webby was the brains of this operation. It hadn’t bothered Lena before; Webby was the brains and the fist, Dewey was the adventurous sort and Lena...was there. 

((You’re the devil may care ne’er do well that stole my heart,)) Webby answered, and Lena blushed. 

“He seems to be hitting every major city,” Webby said. “And heading west. Any city that has a large concentration of dragons.”

“Bonding _is _prevalent among dragons,” Scrooge mused. “Other species can Bond too, but it’s predominantly dragons.”

“What would be his ultimate goal? Walking across the United States?” Dewey said. “That seems kinda...pointless.”

“I donnae know that he has ‘goals’ anymore…” Scrooge said, frowning. “If he can think that far in advance.”

“Then why not just stop?” Lena mused aloud.

“He’s like a zombie…” Webby said and cringed at Dewey’s expression. “I’m sorry.”

Scrooge frowned. “I donnae like it any more than you do, lad. But we cannae overthink about it right now. We have a problem to solve.”

He reached across the table and reached for Dewey’s hand. Dewey gave it.

“We will do what we can, if there’s anything that can be done,” Scrooge said quietly. “But we cannae waste time worrying about Gladstone when we have to fix what Magica de Spell broke.”

“Stupid Magica,” Dewey muttered and then glanced to his right. “Sorry, Lena.”

“Oh, no, you can call her whatever you want,” Lena said, shrugging. “I hate her guts.”

“We have to figure out where he’s going next,” Scrooge continued. “If he continues on this path...where will he end up?”

Lena pulled up a map of the US and indicated where he’d already struck. If they could predict where he’d go, they could head him off. Maybe there was something in the book that could help. After all, the book had to be good for something other than a weapon to smack her aunt with. Not that it hadn’t been amusing, hitting her with it.

Lena was tired, and she would have loved to sleep, though preferably not here, in this tacky breakroom. She yawned and covered her mouth. Time was of the essence, she knew that, but they’d do no one any good half asleep. 

Scrooge stifled a sigh. “Right. You lot--it’s time to go home. We can figure this out after daybreak.”

His lips twitched toward a small smile. “Unless you wanted to stay here?”

“No!” Dewey, Lena, and Webby said in unison, and he smiled.

“I dinnae think so,” he replied. “Let’s go.”

* * *

They snuggled up together, and after a plethora of apologies and promises she wouldn’t sneak out again, they cuddled with Webby in the middle. Webby nuzzled Lena and then Dewey. Lena sighed, content. This was all she’d ever really wanted out of life. It was a shame that when they woke up later, they’d have to deal with real life. 

After a little time with her Bondeds, her arm no longer hurt, and the incident might have been forgotten if it hadn’t weighed so heavily on Lena’s mind. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen her father in a couple of days, and she wondered whether he’d made himself useful or absconded as he had for most of her life. Webby sighed in her sleep and rested her head on Lena’s shoulder. Lena smiled. At least she knew that her Bondeds would never leave her, unlike Aunt Magica’s almost Bonded.

As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she had the end-point mapped out for Gladstone. It loomed, so close in her mind, yet when she awoke in the morning, she remembered nothing.

* * *

Prince Deborvak kept secrets from his siblings. It had started with the rebel leader, and now he was purposefully concealing the approach of the two outworlders. There would be hell to pay if he was discovered, yet Deborvak wanted to see how this would play out. 

He’d keep an eye on things. If they looked amiss, then he’d alert his mother, the empress. If not, then he’d see if he could handle it himself. His twin had all the responsibility, anyway. It wasn’t like their mother paid too much attention to what Deborvak did, so long as he didn’t embarrass the family.

Any more than he already had, which thankfully, his mother didn’t know about. 

Keeping secrets was dangerous in this family. It could get him killed. He hoped that the outworlders were worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> I love the twist at the end. :P

Huey and Violet landed, exhausted, in Vorschia. The wind had picked up during their flight, and they had needed to stop several times. Therefore, a trip that might have taken several hours had taken nearly a day. 

They weren’t without resources, at least. Huey had worried at first when he realized their currency would be no good here. However, Denalia had seen fit to give them money, in the form of coins Huey had never seen before. They depicted royalty in profile, and he assumed the larger coins were worth more; the largest coin he had, about the size of a silver dollar in the US, depicted a severe-looking middle-aged dragoness who managed to glare contemptuously at the user. That, he assumed, was the empress, whom he hoped never to meet in person. Something about her gave him chills, and it was only her impression upon gold.

They had landed on the outskirts, beyond the gates, and it was approaching sundown. Huey hoped they didn’t close the gates when the sun fell. If so, they’d be camping outside without gear. Denalia might have given them clothes, money, and provisions, but she hadn’t given them tents or sleeping bags. He didn’t fancy sleeping out in the open without anything to compensate for the elements.

Shivering at the thought, he approached the gates with Violet beside him. Due to their haphazard flight patterns, they hadn’t been able to talk much, which left Huey thinking about their relationship, whatever it was, in between battling the gales. What had Violet meant about “working for it”? Should he be worried?

Denalia had furnished them with credentials in the form of a small paper packet, which resembled a passport. With trepidation, he held out the papers to the guard on duty. The guard took it and frowned, scanning whatever it read. Seeing as it’d been written in what Denalia claimed was “faerie,” Huey couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but it would be fascinating under different circumstances.

Multiple guards were manning various checkpoints. Behind them, people shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Some were refugees, holding bags in one hand and cradling children in the other. Others were merchants, hoping to ply their sales. A few were magic users, playing tricks for the crowd or to intimidate people. Huey wasn’t sure which.

The guard before them was taking a long time to assert their credentials. He swallowed back nervousness. Maybe he suspected they were forgeries. Or perhaps he distrusted the faerie language. Come to think of it, the closer they’d gotten to Vorschia, the fewer diverse creatures they had encountered. Huey didn’t know why.

Their guard, a burly man with reddish-brown hair and a few crimson scales along his cheeks, scratched at them absently. He beckoned to another guard, a beanpole of a man with stringy blonde hair whose dull, watery blue eyes took them in and then returned to the other guard. They appeared to be arguing in a language Huey didn’t understand. As far as he could tell, everyone spoke the same language, unless that’d been a condition for the magic. He’d taken for granted that he’d understood everyone until he couldn’t.

He raised his eyebrows at Violet, who was following the exchange with wide eyes. With her eidetic memory, she was storing away the words, phrases, and pronunciation for later. He envied her that. Of course, he could have that too, once he Bonded with Violet ifhe Bonded with Violet, which was by no means a certainty. He was thinking too far ahead, not to mention getting off-topic.

While the guards discussed the matter, the people behind them grew impatient. Unfortunately, their complaints were all too easy to comprehend. Chagrined, he glanced at Violet, but she wasn’t paying the hoi polloi the slightest bit of attention. 

The burly guard produced a red ball and held it close to the papers. For a few seconds, Huey feared he’d incinerate them. Then, shaking his head, he handed them back to him. 

“They look to be in order,” the guard said dubiously as if disappointed. Perhaps he’d been hoping to arrest them. 

“But…?” Huey said, knowing he ought to leave well enough alone but unable to. Louie would’ve chewed him out for it. 

“But nothing, kid,” the guard snapped. “Go in; you’re holding up the line. Next!”

With their clearance granted, he and Vorschia ascended a long hill into the city proper. They passed the squalid quarters of squatters and those down on their luck. Beggars lined the streets and held out their hands. Huey and Violet steered clear, which was difficult because this section of the city was narrow, wending, and he didn’t know where he was going. The palace didn’t appear to be part of the city but attached through another series of gates. Huey groaned. He was starting to wish Denalia had given them more explicit directions.

Their surroundings also resembled medieval dwellings, right down to the reek. Huey wrinkled his nose. There was sludge in the road that he preferred to leave at that, rather than thinking about what comprised it. Violet sidestepped it too, likewise scowling. They stuck close together, both for security and because it made sense. At some point along their long trek, they wound up holding hands again, and Huey squeezed only for her to squeeze back. He smiled.

His heart was pounding. If he hadn’t known this was the wrong situation for it, he might have considered kissing her again. He’d enjoyed making out with her two nights ago. 

They wandered through warrens, passed drug dens, houses of ill repute, and every time Huey came close to a place of vice, he shuddered, drawing closer to Violet. She intertwined their fingers, and he could feel her pulse in his palm. She was real, trustworthy, and reassuring in a world that had gone mad.

Cats and half-naked children ran amuck. The children were human, so far as he could tell. Then again, if he were relying on scent along to determine a dragon, it would’ve been impossible. The stench of the streets was too strong.

Having telepathy would’ve been an asset here; he didn’t feel like having eavesdroppers. Then again, Violet seemed to know what he needed without his saying so. She grounded him.

“Okay, we need a map,” Huey said after another hour of wandering the streets. “Because we’re never going to escape this mess without a guide. And, no offense, but anyone who might serve as a guide looks like a con.”

With his extensive experience with Louie’s tricks, he knew what the signs were. He was trying not to stand out, but it was growing increasingly difficult as they searched aimlessly. How were they going to find the prince? He supposed he could swoop down and save them if he knew how to find them. But that seemed too coincidental and contrived.

What might end up happening was that someone would rob them blind and leave them to die in an alley. It was too confined in here to shapeshift, not to mention dangerous. 

“We seriously need help,” he said in an undertone. “Thankfully, my JWG contained a section about traversing an urban area. It would help, though, if the streets were laid out in a grid instead of haphazard.”

At present, they stood in front of a liquor store. Children dashed past them, an overweight older woman on a stoop yelled and shook her fist, but didn’t bother chasing after them. Finding them in this mess would’ve taken too much effort.

“We know that the palace is east,” Violet mused. “What if we constructed a magnet?”

“We don’t know for certain that this planet’s gravitational pull is the same as Earth’s,” he pointed out. He frowned. “Or if we’ll be branded as outsiders using tech that others might not have.”

Then again, they had to try something. He wasn’t desperate enough to pay a guide to lead them out, mainly because he suspected he’d be robbed blind afterward. Or led into an ambush. He sighed. This was all Magica’s fault. Not that assigning blame was helpful, either.

A compass might assist them, though. Huey was wary of rifling through his sack in front of onlookers, and it was to no avail, anyway. Denalia had not foreseen the possibility of their needing a compass. 

“Hey, wait,” Violet said, noticing a piece of paper folded at the bottom of the bag. “It’s a map.”

“You mean we’ve been walking, and we had a map all this time?” Huey groused. Their purse jingled, and his heart skipped a beat. No one had heard that, right?

However, like the sound of shaking a bag of treats to attract a cat, the coins jingling drew an interested group of thieves. At least, Huey assumed they were thieves. They carried blades and smiled viciously. It didn’t take much imagination to assume they were up to no good, either.

They’d appeared out of alleyways and converged on the two of them. Violet and Huey backed up so that their backs were to each other, and they presented a united front. He would’ve loved Webby’s fighting skills or Dewey’s secondhand training from Webby right about now, instead of what they had, which was nothing.

There were six thieves and two of them. It occurred to him he didn’t know the extent of Violet’s powers, only that they’d been proficient for Magica to possess her. She stepped away from Huey, closed her eyes, and flung out her arms. A purple aura surrounded her fingertips, and Huey’s heart skipped a few more beats. The thieves, who looked to be no older than they were, stopped, staring. They didn’t know what to make of this, and frankly, neither did he.

Violet brought her hands back together, and a sudden gust of wind whipped up, sending the thieves staggering back a couple of steps. He’d imagined a big, mighty gale that would send their potential assailants to their knees. This was not it.

They didn’t have enough room to shift completely, but they might be able to partially shift, exchanging hands and feet for dragon claws and feet. Still, they were in a tight, enclosed space. That was to their benefit because it meant no more than two could attack at once, but it was to their detriment in that neither of them was trained in how to fight. Violet knew many different languages, but unless this group was interested in tutoring, Huey didn’t see how that helped.

“I thought it’d be stronger,” Violet said sheepishly. 

He wished he had Louie’s gift of gab. Maybe he could come up with something off the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t good with imagination stuff. Damn it; this was why the triplets worked best as a team.

“Can we talk about this?” Huey asked. The leader, a boy with a scar across his right cheek and bright red eyes, glowered and brandished a knife about the size of his forearm. 

“No, apparently not,” Huey said and winced. The leader gestured for the two girls at his side to flank him, and Huey partially shifted, losing his humanoid appearance and replacing it with a hybrid. The girls stopped, one of them whimpering in fright. This girl had a scar to match the boy’s and had the same red eyes with white hair. They must’ve been siblings.

“They’re dragons,” the blonde-haired girl whispered loudly to the boy, who rolled his eyes. He was scrawny and malnourished. His t-shirt had holes in it, and his toes stuck out of too-small shoes. Huey would’ve felt bad for him if he weren’t holding them up at knifepoint. Then again, against adamantine scales, the knives didn’t stand a chance.

“I _noticed_,” the boy hissed. He seemed to weigh his options, eyes moving back and forth between the two of them. 

“What are they doing in the city?” the blonde girl hissed, seemingly not getting the hint to be quiet.

“Don’t know,” the boy whispered back. “Might be the Empress’s spies. You know the princes come into the city once in a while and stir up trouble.”

“Shit, is it worth it?” the white-haired girl asked. The boy hesitated a minute longer before nodding to his compatriots and waving them off. Huey only let out a relieved breath when they had started to turn away. Then a thought occurred to him. Far be it for him to exploit someone’s fear, but they probably knew their way through this maze better than Denalia’s map. 

He brandished the map, which the gang seemed to take as a threat because they dispersed faster than Huey would’ve thought possible. Within a minute, he and Violet stood in an empty street. The older woman had vanished, presumably returning to her hovel, and the playing children had likewise disappeared. Huey felt self-conscious about his dragon form, which never elicited that kind of reaction before.

He could almost hear Louie’s snark. _“You’d think dragons came in and killed their family. Jeez.”_

Had they? Huey knew next to nothing about dragons in this world, beyond that they Bonded, and everything else he’d heard was suspect. Was it possible that Denalia and Illiyich were right, that dragons were the aggressors? 

“I’ll work on my magic,” Violet said sheepishly. Without an audience, they were free to pore over the map and ascertain their next steps. It seemed there were popular taverns along the way, in the more affluent areas. They could stop in and see whether anyone had seen the princes. Then again, if they had, the princes might’ve decided to be circumspect.

Still, it was their only lead, and it was better than nothing.

Onward and upward, literally, in this case, as the higher they ascended, according to the map, the greater the chance of sprawling estates. Huey and Violet decided by unspoken agreement to remain partially in dragon form. Just in case.

* * *

Lena slumped back, exhausted. That spell had taken more out of her than she’d thought. She was also ravenous, but that could wait until they had their answer. As it was, she was bleeding profusely and light-headed. The spell had required too much blood, at least a pint, and if Lena hadn’t been sitting in the living room on the couch, the book spread out on the coffee table before her, she wouldn’t have managed. 

Beside the book was a map with a compass on it. Before the spell, the compass had pointed due north. Now it was pointing due east at New Stork City. She stared at it, wondering if it would change direction, but no, it seemed stuck on NSC. That was Gladstone’s ultimate destination, then.

“We’re not gonna fly across the country, are we?” Dewey asked, frowning.

“We can get Launchpad or Della to fly us,” Webby said brightly. “It’d be faster than flying ourselves.”

“Probably Mom,” Dewey said, grimacing. “Mom’s a little touchy since Launchpad screwed around with the Cloudslayer and broke one of the wings off.”

“Why am I not surprised…” Lena muttered. She went to put her feet up on the table beside the map and faceplanted. Cursing, she rose, rubbing her head. No one saw that, right? She turned and saw her Bondeds staring at her in alarm. Even if they hadn’t seen it, they had to have heard the thunk as her head had collided with the wood. 

Now she had a sizeable headache. Webby smoothed back her hair and kissed her on the temple. Oddly, warmth flowed between them, and Lena felt incrementally better. She turned her head and kissed Webby on the lips. Webby kissed her back and draped her arms over her shoulders.

When they broke apart, Webby said, “Go get some rest, you silly goose. We can head him off in the Sunchaser, er, Cloudslayer. There’s no way he’ll get there before us, not on foot.”

No one would be foolish enough to give him a ride, would they? How would he communicate that? Still, he might be able to shift. Webby frowned.

“If he can still change back and forth, it’d still be faster to take the Sunchaser with Della and head him off. We have plenty of time. Don’t worry, Lena.”

“What are we going to do about the infected areas?” Dewey asked. Lena was in no condition to peruse the book and determine whether there were spells to work with on that. She felt like she was about to keel over. Returning to the bedroom would be impossible.

“Hell if I know,” Lena said. “We thought that stopping Gladstone ought to stop this, but I don’t know how to undo what Aunt Magica did.”

She stared at the book. The answer was probably in there somewhere, but she wasn’t unearthing it tonight. Sprawling out on the couch and draping herself over her Bondeds, she yawned. 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” she announced. It was only ten in the morning. A light came streaming in through the window. She felt as if she hadn’t slept for three days and was running on fumes. Her eyes stubbornly refused to remain open.

“We should probably tell Uncle Scrooge what we found,” Dewey said uncertainly as they extricated themselves from the couch.

“Probably,” Webby agreed. “Sleep well, sweet dreams, Lena.”

Lena waved a hand. “Night.”

Her Bondeds left, and she yawned, this time not bothering to stifle it or conceal it behind her hand. She could feel the sleep threatening to lull her under, and she capitulated willingly. At least today, her rest was dreamless.

* * *

“You’re positive?” Scrooge asked. They’d moved the map, and the compass continued pointing unerringly toward the east. New Stork City, no matter how they tried shifting the map or resetting the compass. It returned to the same point.

“That’s what Lena came up with, and I have no reason to doubt her,” Webby said. They were standing in Scrooge’s office. Lena’s fatigue weighed on them too, and Webby had needed to block it out to have this conversation. Dewey looked half-dead on his feet, and she pushed him into a chair. He’d need to learn how to wall off her and Lena at times, or he’d end up sharing whatever they were going through all the time.

“Then after Lena’s slept and eaten, we’ll need to take off for New Stork City and head him off,” Scrooge decided.

“But what about all the cities in between?” Dewey pointed out and covered his mouth as he yawned.

“We cannae worry about them until we’ve run damage control,” Scrooge said and shook his head. His whiskers flew about his face, and Webby thought it made him look distinguished. She didn’t know where Goldie had vanished off to, which might be a bad sign. She’d agreed to the wedding, so far as Webby knew, but she wasn’t the settling down type.

“And we donnae know the path he intends to take,” Scrooge said and grimaced. He scrubbed at his face. “We cannae warn anyone if we donnae know where he’s going first.”

“But...it feels unfair,” Dewey protested. “Shouldn’t we do _something_?”

“We’re doing all we can do, laddie,” Scrooge said. “When Lena wakes up again, we’ll see if we can discern the path he’s taking. Maybe we don’t have to head him off in New Stork City. Maybe we can catch him earlier.”

“Maybe,” Webby said, but she was far from convinced. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, which was tied in knots already over Huey and Violet. She knew Dewey and Louie were worried too, even if the latter was plotting an elaborate scheme and hiding out in his bedroom. 

“Donnae worry, lass,” Scrooge counseled. “We’ll stop this.”

“But at what cost?” Webby burst out. “Gladstone’s already lost his sanity, Magica’s more desperate than ever, and Gladstone tried to jump into Lena’s mind the last time he was sane. Not to mention Lena’s dad’s missing again, and we have no idea where.”

Scrooge’s eyes flashed draconic gold. “Ack, that ne’er do-well delinquent. He’d better be helping us somehow.”

Even if he was, they had no way of knowing. Webby hugged herself, and Dewey put a hand on her shoulder. 

“One problem at a time,” Scrooge said. “Too many will only complicate matters more.”

“Yeah, and we have no idea what that’s like, complicated matters,” Dewey retorted, rolling his eyes.

Scrooge smiled. “We’ll get through it. This is the Dragon clan, and we will not let anyone stand in our way. That includes you too, lass, because ye married in.”

“I hope Poe isn’t doing anything dangerous…” Webby said, staring at the floor. “Like going after Gladstone himself…”

“Why would he do that?” Dewey scoffed.

“I got the impression he thought he wasn’t wanted around here,” Webby said.

“Rubbish,” Scrooge said. “Lena needs her father.”

“She did fine without him,” Dewey pointed out. “And so did we, without our dads.”

“That donnae mean that the longing isn’t there,” Scrooge said. 

“Maybe we should do a spell to find him,” Webby suggested. 

“After Lena wakes up,” Dewey said. 

“Yeah…” Webby hesitated. If only she could be sure that ‘after’ wouldn’t be too late.

* * *

Poe had been trailing Gladstone for the last two cities. He didn’t have a plan for what would happen when he caught up to him, but he knew he had to stop him before he crossed the country. He owed it to Lena to fix what was Magica’s doing; he’d let her down often enough as it was. When he thought about how he had failed her, his throat tightened in shame.

He found Gladstone standing in front of a large edifice; it was a local courthouse. Poe had lost track of what city they were in—Gladstone was tireless, which meant Poe only had small rests between following him, lest he lose him. He could shift into his dragon form, which meant he was faster, but Gladstone never took a break. His shoes had ripped apart, and he walked on his bloody soles. His eyes were bloodshot, and he never looked from side to side, only straight forward. He was like a zombie.

Around them, disorder reigned. Wherever Gladstone had gone, magic stopped working correctly, if it didn’t shut down altogether. Bonds severed. Influential magic users faltered and failed. Couples in the sky in the middle of the Bonding Flight either plummeted to the ground or broke off mid-encounter. Even if one wasn’t a dragon, the effects could be felt. Humanoids snapped at each other and grew angrier and ruder. 

It was the first time Poe had seen Gladstone pause. He hadn’t even paid attention to traffic and had nearly been hit half a dozen times already. It was like he was oblivious to his surroundings. And then this. For no reason he could discern, Gladstone had stopped dead in his tracks.

“Lena.”

Poe blinked; irritation and dread swamped him. “What _about _my daughter?”

Gladstone shook his head, but he didn’t know if it was in response to him or internal stimuli. Gladstone stood at the bottom of the stairs while people passed them by. Poe wasn’t a magic user, so he didn’t see it at first, but an aura enveloped the courthouse. It was bright pink and radiated warmth and good nature. 

It must’ve been a countercharm. Poe felt profound relief—perhaps his job wouldn’t be thankless after all. Someone must have passed the message along. Gladstone strained as if at an invisible leash. He gritted his teeth and, lowering his head like a bull, made for dashing up the steps. He fell over.

“I’m sorry, Dark, but this was the best I could do on such short notice,” a female voice intoned and floated out of the courthouse. She levitated above the stairs and out of Gladstone’s reach. She wore a long red and black dress, and her hair was coiffed atop her head. 

Poe froze. He knew that voice. It was like a blow to the chest. She wouldn’t remember him, of course not. But he’d know her anywhere.

He ascended to the first two steps and was about to confront her when another voice, male this time, answered her. 

He was unmistakably a dragon in humanoid form; the sheer arrogance was a dead giveaway. With bright blonde hair underneath a fedora and a purple costume, Darkwing Dragon appeared behind Morgana Macawaber. She spun about in midair to look at him, and though Poe couldn’t see her expression, Darkwing melted. He missed a few steps going down, a love-struck expression on his face, and Poe rolled his eyes.

Morgana arrested him by his cape before he crashed down the entire flight. Maybe he would’ve deserved a brutal reality slap. Poe simmered, fists balling.

“Dark, I’ve warned you about those stairs,” Morgana protested. 

“Yep, yep,” Darkwing Dragon said. “I meant to do that.”

“Lena…” Gladstone said, and Poe’s eyes flashed draconic gold. 

“What the hell is your problem with my daughter?” Poe snapped.

At once, Darkwing and Morgana turned to behold Poe and Gladstone. Poe’s stomach dropped as their eyes met, and Morgana frowned. 

“Do I know you?” she asked, her forehead wrinkling. “And why does the name ‘Lena’ sound so familiar?”

“Never mind that. There’s no time,” Poe said, although his treacherous heart ached at her questioning. She had forgotten him. The only woman he ever loved, and she’d consigned him to the trash heap.

“I know you,” she said.

“Does it matter?” Darkwing said. “He looks like a loser. Besides, we have other problems to deal with, like this scourge that’s tainting every city it encounters. We already lost St. Canard.”

“I’m not a loser,” Poe snapped, a little heated. 

“We dated once, didn’t we?” Morgana asked. “Was that where I knew you?”

“You gave me an egg,” Poe said quietly. 

Morgana crashed and, seeing as she’d been holding onto Darkwing at the time, they both landed hard on the stairs. Darkwing looked stunned, both from the confession and the wind being knocked out of him. Morgana, no less amazed, gawked at him.

“The egg wasn’t _viable_, was it?” Morgana choked out. She glanced from him to Gladstone and back. “You said…’ Lena’ was your daughter.”

“No, no, no,” Darkwing interrupted. “You didn’t have anything to do with him.”

“It was a one night stand!” Morgana protested, frustrated. “Nothing should have happened! I gave him the egg as a keepsake! I didn’t know that it had a hatchling inside!”

She gazed at him desperately. “Did it?”

Yes. It had. Poe had never wanted to burden Morgana with that knowledge. He’d always feared Magica would chase after her if she knew who Lena’s mother was. So he’d kept silent. True, Magica no longer posed a threat anymore. His throat was tight. He didn’t know what to say. Lena would want to know her mother. Should know her mother. But Poe had just gotten a new lease on life. He didn’t want to forsake her so soon and have to compete with Morgana for Lena’s attention.

“Did it?” Darkwing demanded.

He considered saying ‘no’ for a few seconds more. Maintaining the status quo was tempting. But it wouldn’t explain why Gladstone had seen Lena in Morgana. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Poe said, and then Gladstone jerked, turning right and heading off toward the traffic. “Shit! Hang on. I’ve got to rein this guy in.”

“You know him?” Morgana asked, and Poe nodded.

“You don’t seriously have a kid you don’t know about, do you?” Darkwing asked, hoping to be proved wrong.

“We need to discuss Lena and Gladstone,” Poe said, resigning himself to his fate. “And the sooner, the better.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depending on how Monday falls out, I'll probably have a lot of time on my hands...I need to write the next chapter of this and the City of Angels. I was also thinking of doing a series with Della.

Darkwing, Morgana, and Poe sat at a diner in an increasingly tense conversation. Thus far, all they had done was to order food and Darkwing eyed Poe as if he’d murdered his friends and family. Dragons laid eggs all the time, but they weren’t always fertilized. Morgana hadn’t realized that Lena’s egg was viable, and Poe had put in all the effort of incubating her by himself. He hadn’t wanted to burden Morgana with the knowledge that she had a daughter, particularly after a one night stand. Besides, after Magica had taken so much from him, he wanted something that belonged to him and him alone. The time, unfortunately, had come to change that.

He needed Morgana’s help with Magica’s corruption and quickly.

“How old is Lena?” Darkwing asked sourly, chewing on the inside of his cheek and glaring at Poe.

“She’s eighteen,” Poe said. “She was just Bonded to---

“Oh...I know who that is,” Darkwing interrupted. His eyes narrowed. “She Bonded with Dewey Dragon and Webbigail Vanderroar.”

“Her aunt, my sister, is part of a broken Bond,” Poe said, waving away Darkwing’s comments. “That’s why I need your help, Morgana.”

“But don’t broken Bonds usually lead to death and insanity?” Morgana asked, frowning. “I’m unclear as to what you need my help for.”

“Gladstone is catatonic and yet, somehow, spreading corruption throughout the United States,” Poe said and grimaced, deciding to get to the point. Darkwing still looked sore over Lena, and Poe didn’t have time to indulge in his sulking. He knew it was only a matter of time before the manchild interrupted to discuss his feelings thanks to his arrogance, and Poe wanted to head it off before that happened.

“And Magica may not be as catatonic as she appears,” he said. “I left before I had a chance to investigate further because I knew Lena needed my help.”

“Oh, but you couldn’t be bothered to tell Morgana that she had a daughter, could you?” Darkwing said accusingly. 

“Dark,” Morgana said, putting a hand on his arm. “I still have a daughter. Gosalyn, remember? _Your _daughter. And we can still have children together.”

She frowned. “I wish you had told me about Lena. I could have helped you.”

“I should have,” Poe admitted, looking down. “Especially because I was trapped for almost her entire life as a crow.”

“That’s A+ parenting right there,” Darkwing scoffed. 

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Morgana said softly. She placed a hand atop Poe’s. “You can tell me. It’s all right. Just ignore Darkwing.”

Poe shook his head. Now was not the time to discuss it. It’d only distract them. Besides, if Darkwing had a daughter, he’d be incensed to learn that Poe had stood by and watched Magica torment Lena without doing anything to stop her. Poe was ashamed of himself. If Lena had suffered mental scarring, it would’ve been his fault.

“If I remember correctly, your sister isn’t exactly the nicest sorceress,” Morgana said, and only her nostrils flaring alluded to her attempt at diplomacy. 

Poe looked down at his placemat. “She didn’t exactly take to Lena.”

“How so? Lena’s all right, isn’t she?” Morgana asked, her voice tight. She was showing a lot of concern for someone she’d just learned the existence of an hour ago. 

“She’s all right so long as Magica can’t get her hands, mentally or physically, on her,” Poe said. “Look, we have a bigger problem than Magica’s prior behavior. Gladstone could spread the contagion across the country and even across the world if we don’t stop him. He severed the Bond rather than Bond with Magica, which, although understandable, led us to our current predicament.”

“You wouldn’t do that, would you?” Darkwing murmured, and she shook her head.

“I’d never leave you, Dark,” Morgana promised and kissed him on the cheek. Poe ignored this. 

“Can you help us?” Poe asked. Darkwing was desperate, which wasn’t a charming look for him. 

“I think so,” Morgana said, frowning thoughtfully. “Can you introduce me to Lena as well? I feel I owe it to her.”

“One thing at a time,” Poe advised. He grimaced. “I hate to ask this, but, Darkwing--”

“I’ll be there,” Darkwing Dragon promised, and his eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That hadn't been what he’d been about to ask, but it was too late now. Darkwing had already volunteered his services. Besides, he doubted that he was about to leave him alone with Morgana for one second longer than he had to. Darkwing was giving him a death glare.

Their meals arrived, and Poe realized, with a guilty start, that he’d lost track of Gladstone. “Fuck! What happened to Gladstone?”

Morgana waved her hand, and Gladstone appeared, encased in a magical barrier. Despite his inability to move, he kept trying to walk through it anyway. 

“I arrested his movement when we were at the courthouse,” she explained. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up.”

Poe breathed easier. The horror of having to trail after him was over, at least for the time being. Unfortunately, in its wake, he felt exhausted. He drooped onto the table and groaned.

“How long have you been following him?” she asked.

“Two. Fucking. Weeks.”

“Jeez, pal, you need this more than I do,” Darkwing said, pushing his coffee at Poe. Poe swallowed it in one gulp, regardless of how hot it was. Morgana and Darkwing exchanged alarmed looks. 

He had burned his mouth and throat, but it’d be worth it if the caffeine worked quickly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so exhausted. Oh, wait, yes, he could. Lena had caught a cold when she was a toddler, and Poe had spent days nursing her back to health. He’d gotten sick too, of course, because kids were germ factories.

“I should be able to help,” Morgana mused. “But, I’ve never pitted my magic against Magica’s before.”

She frowned, gnawing the inside of her cheek.

“You can do it,” Darkwing said and smiled at her. He looked lovestruck, and Poe rolled his eyes. Thankfully, Darkwing didn’t see it and couldn’t take umbrage.

“I’ll have to study up on it,” Morgana said. “Do you have any leads on what might stop him permanently?”

“Lena was researching ways when I left.”

“You left her?” Morgana said sharply.

“I came to find you!” he protested. “That was more important.”

Morgana frowned, unconvinced. Poe wasn’t sure whether Darkwing agreed with her, or he felt like opposing Poe because he was glaring too. Then again, it might’ve been a little bit of both. Poe ignored him. He wasn’t worth getting aggravated over.

“We should bring Gladstone back to Dragonburg,” she said. Her forehead creased. “If we can do so. As I said, I’m not sure how long I can keep him restrained. I doubt he’d be able to stay captive forever.”

Gladstone was walking faster now, attempting to burst through the bubble. Morgana gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. The strain showed on her face; her eyes were screwed up tightly, and she had gone pale. Her breathing was shallow, and she cursed.

“Morgana!” Darkwing said, alarmed.

“I...I can’t hold on for much longer…” she confessed. 

With a groan, she released the spell, and her head smacked into the placemat. Drake glowered as if this was Poe’s fault, and he’d set out to do this. He was so busy glaring at Poe that Morgana slipped under the table. 

“You might want to take more care of your potential future Bonded,” Poe said mildly.

“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Drake countered.

“She’s literally on the floor…” 

Gladstone’s bubble popped, and he stepped forward, spreading his arms out. Dark magic spilled from his fingertips, coating the diner and all of its occupants. Poe had never been in the direct path of Gladstone’s power before, and it hit him on a full blast, leaving him choking. 

“Morgana!” Drake cried. 

His vision flickered, and he crashed into the side of the booth. Beyond him, he could hear frantic screams and, more disconcerting, whimpering, and pleas. The dark magic swamped him; it had the taste of one of his sister’s spells and the Bond’s perversion. His chest constricted, and he gasped, attempting to no avail to draw in a breath.

(How was he supposed to help Lena now? How were any of them going to?)

“Dark!” Morgana cried, rousing. “Dark, no!” 

Whatever he was supposed to do or not do, Poe couldn’t tell. He drowned in the darkness. There was no way up and no light to assist him. No one was reaching for him, and so he sank, further and further from salvation.

* * *

“They’re coming,” Deborvak said with a wry smile. He was sitting on one of the palace’s many balconies with Stefan beside him. Miam was busy with paperwork, and their mother had locked herself up with a Scrying pool and strict orders not to bother her, even if they were dying (other people might’ve thought she was exaggerating, but she wasn’t). Abraxas had locked himself up in his room to paint, Saphina was bothering the black unicorn herd _again_, and that left him and Stefan. 

“Should we greet them?” Stefan said, frowning. “We hardly want them to encounter the servants.”

Deborvak grimaced. “The slaves, you mean.”

Although everyone in the family used the term ‘servants,’ it was closer to ‘slaves’--indentured servants punished for infractions their family members had committed against the throne. The servants were terrified of everything, petrified they’d be attacked on a whim. It, combined with the general malfeasance hovering about the palace, the palace a rather constricting, unpleasant place to live.

“Yes,” Stefan said. “We should head them off. They’re probably scared. They’re not from here, you know.”

Deborvak had scried Vorschia himself and had noted the way they moved and the aura surrounding them. “Really? I couldn’t tell, brother.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Stefan retorted. He pushed away from the balcony railing. “We should meet them at the gates. I get the sense that if Mother found out about them, she would be less than charitable. She’s not fond of outsiders.”

“She’s barely fond of you, and you’re family,” Deborvak muttered.

“She’d be fonder if I flew off a balcony and never returned,” Stefan agreed. “Come now. Let’s head them off.”

Deborvak nodded and shifted partially so that he had black dragon wings. Stefan followed suit, and they launched themselves off the balcony. Since the outsiders were on foot, it ought to be easy to catch up. 

They landed in the middle of a busy street, and people yelped, scurrying away. Deborvak cackled; he loved chaos. Stefan selected a less populated area and rolled his eyes at his younger brother. 

“Must you?” Stefan scolded. “You could have trampled someone.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Deborvak replied and blew him a raspberry. “You worry way too much.”

The outsiders alone hadn’t scurried, which improved Deborvak’s opinion of them. The boy held his ground, though he stood slightly in front of the girl. Chivalry wasn’t dead. 

“I assume you were looking for us?” Deborvak said, and Stefan sighed, facepalming. 

“You always have to show-off,” Stefan grumbled, joining him. “For once, I’d like to make a quiet entrance. For _once_.”

((I’m not going to make a quiet entrance, even at my funeral. Better get used to it now,)) Deborvak shot back mentally.

“Are you the princes?” the boy asked.

Deborvak pulled on the robes he wore, which displayed the family coat of arms. He shook it at them. 

“That’s what it says on my robes. Unless they’re counterfeit,” Deborvak said. “In that case, I should probably return the Rolex they sold me too.”

The teenagers gaped, and Deborvak rolled his eyes.

“I am Stefan, and this is Deborvak,” Stefan said, stepping forward. “What was it you wanted with us?”

“We’re here on behalf of the rebels and---”

Deborvak cringed. “You probably shouldn’t announce that so loudly or so proudly, young one. Come on. We’ll see if we can scare up some grub.”

“Not literally this time!” Stefan scoffed.

“You frighten people _one _time,” Deborvak said, rolling his eyes, “and all of a sudden, you have a reputation for it.”

“It wasn’t one person, it was an entire restaurant, and you didn’t need to set the table on fire!”

“Pfft, no one was hurt. And it was one of those stupid hibachi places. Not my fault people don’t like flame-broiled food.”

“For God’s sake, Deborvak,” Stefan said, facepalming. He sighed. “Follow me. What are your names?”

“I’m Huey, and this is Violet,” the boy said, trooping along behind them. Despite Deborvak’s banter, he was worried. No one brought up the Alliance lightly. Around the capital, in front of the wrong people, it could be tantamount to a death sentence. Huey and Violet were fortunate to have encountered them and not one of their siblings. That didn’t make him feel much better, however. The empress and all of his siblings, save one, didn’t know about his dalliance with the rebel leader. He had hoped his life wouldn’t cross with the Alliance again.

“We’re, uh, we’re from out of town,” Huey said, and Deborvak snorted.

“You’re from out of this universe,” Deborvak corrected. “Your magical aura shows you as outsiders. Don’t worry about it. Unless you’re advanced at magic, most people wouldn’t be able to tell anything other than that you’re dragons.”

Huey didn’t look convinced, and Deborvak shrugged. It was no skin off his bones. They selected a discreet pub and secured a private room. Gold talked, and in case it didn’t, all they needed to do was flash their faces, and it’d be enough.

Once inside the room, Deborvak shut the door. It was a small room, richly upholstered and equipped with magical sound dampening properties. A red carpet lined the floor, red wallpaper coated the walls, and a gold chandelier dangled over a table with seating for six. The table was thick, hardwood, and of good make. It ought to be--Deborvak had paid enough for this room.

“All right,” Deborvak said after everyone had sat down. “Let’s talk.”

“We just want to get home,” Huey blurted. In a rushed voice, he blurted out the whole affair regarding the rebels, their plot for the imperials, and everything in between. As he spoke, Deborvak’s and Stefan’s eyebrows rose. Hastily, Deborvak used a spell to calm him down, because Huey was close to hyperventilating.

“Okay,” Deborvak said, the sordid tale completed. “First things first. You need to breathe, my young friend. Your prospective Bonded should be able to help with that.”

“You can tell?” Huey asked, turning scarlet.

“The Bond magic floats around you two in your auras,” Deborvak replied. 

“You say you can see our auras, but we can’t see yours,” Violet pointed out.

“We’re suppressing them,” Deborvak said with a sidelong look at Stefan. “Contrary to what you may think, we’re attempting to keep a low profile.”

“That you ruined with your flashy entrance,” Stefan muttered.

“Actually, that helped,” Deborvak said with a shrug. “I look like a brash, young, upstart dragon with something to prove. No one got a good look at my face; they were too busy avoiding me.”

Stefan sighed and decided to ignore that. “We might be able to help you return home. The problem I see with that is that your corruption may seep through the link between our worlds. We have enough problems without adding tainted magic.”

“You can’t help us with that, too, can you?” Huey asked, looking desperate. 

“I’m not sure we want to be absent that long...our absence would be noted…” Deborvak said and winced. He already had a track record for that, having been missing an entire summer twenty years ago. He’d barely gotten away with it the last time. His mother was keeping closer tabs on him now. He didn’t think he’d be able to sneak off to help outsiders. 

“Yours might,” Stefan said. “Mother, as I’ve mentioned before, wouldn’t care a fig if I fell off the face of the earth.”

“True…” Deborvak said and, at Stefan’s wounded look, added, “I’m not saying I agree with her. I’m just saying our mother is a hard person to please.”

“In summary, I might be able to help you,” Stefan said. “One problem at a time. We have no interest in signing our death warrants and joining the rebels. So that’s out.”

“Although if you could lead us to that commune…” Deborvak said, smirking. “No? All right. I thought it’d be worth a shot.”

“Returning to your world will be tricky...despite what we said about your being outsiders, we’ve never met anyone from another universe before,” Stefan added. “We’ll have to ‘borrow’ a few books from Mother’s library.”

“And by ‘borrow,’ he means ‘stealthily steal before Mama gets wind of it.’”

“Yes, I rather think they got that impression, Deb.”

“Right. Heh.”

“But once we have the preliminaries down, we ought to be able to help,” Stefan said. “Believe me--we don’t want you involved in this war either. The last thing we need is an invasion from another universe.”

“We wouldn’t invade you,” Huey said.

Stefan shrugged. “Let’s work with what we have, shall we? And in the meanwhile, the food in this restaurant is exquisite. Tuck in, and we’ll discuss our options further.”

Deborvak could tell that Huey was disappointed--had he hoped they’d change their minds about the rebels? He shook his head, ruefully. They had no idea the political climate here. Then again, being thrust in the middle of a war was probably terrifying enough.

But if they could recruit from this other world...no. He needed to focus on what they could do without thinking of anything else. Plus, he wouldn’t want his mother to get wind of that idea.

Or wind of the outsiders in general. They’d better be careful.

* * *

Although the dark magic had ebbed since Gladstone’s disappearance, it was suddenly back in full force that night. Lena, alarmed, stared through the window at the pitch-black sky. No stars were visible, although it ought to be a full moon. Her hand on her amulet, she willed her consciousness out and felt it bounce back as if hitting an invisible wall. Disconcerted, she reached for her Bondeds, who were in the room with her. Dewey was playing a game, and Webby was reading. And she couldn’t sense them at all.

Alarm choked her, and still, her Bondeds didn’t notice. Clad in her nightgown, she was hardly dressed for wandering about, yet she slipped out the door without her Bondeds paying the slightest attention. 

She encountered no one in the halls, not even ghostly Duckworth. Apprehension grew and gnawed at her stomach. This was like when her aunt had perverted the Bond--” by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” She had thought that Gladstone’s effects would fade after he left the area and, for the most part, they had, at least in McDragon Manor, where the wards kept them out. Now it felt like they were out in force.

Lena sensed something at the front door and opened it. The chill night air blew through her skimpy nightdress, and she rubbed her arms. It was so dark outside that she could scarcely see beyond the porch light. Then something moving caught her eye, and her heart was in her throat.

No. It couldn’t be. 

Poe de Spell stood on the front step, or whatever was left of him. This had Gladstone’s tainted magic all over it, which meant it had Magica’s sorcery stamped on it. Lena didn’t know whether to be frightened that Poe was breathing dark magic, literally breathing out black clouds that looked like plumes of smoke, or enraged that once again, Magica de Spell had destroyed her relationship with her father. Heart pounding, she shut the door and locked it. She sensed, however, that locks would not keep Poe at bay for long.

Rushing through the house, she shook Webby and then Dewey. 

“Hey! I was winning that fight!” Dewey protested, staring at his Switch in dismay.

“Lena, what’s wrong?” Webby said. Surprise flickered across her face. “And why can’t I feel your emotions?’

“Poe is at the door, he’s _breathing _corrupted magic out, and I can’t feel either of you in the Bond,” Lena gasped. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, and she saw stars. Ironic, considering that the sky outside looked like a void.

“So?” Dewey asked, looking put-out that they’d interrupted him in the middle of an epic fight scene. “Maybe Lena’s got her mental barriers up.”

“That’s not it, and you know it, blue,” Lena snarled, officially out of patience. She grabbed Dewey by the arm, tossed the Switch to the side on the bed, and hauled him out of bed. Webby jumped to her feet too and put the book down. Lena’s hands were shaking, and her throat was tight. She didn’t want to think about what this could mean. What if someone really could cut off their Bond? What if she could lose Webby and Dewey?

“Lena, I don’t think--” Dewey started, and then they jumped as a loud bang rent the air. They reached the hallway and discovered the front door had blown open as if by a tremendous gust of wind. The wind howled in the foyer and swept up the stairs. Whatever was going on, it felt ominous. 

“This is getting weird…” Dewey said.

“You said Poe was at the door,” Webby said, glancing her way. “Where could he have gone?”

Chills went down her spine. “If Poe’s carrying Magica’s dark magic, then her real target is in the manor. And that means…”

“Uncle Scrooge!” Dewey and Webby yelped, and, as one, they charged up the stairs and toward Scrooge’s bedroom. Lena tried to remember whether Goldie was still there. 

Louie certainly was. His teeth chattered, and he rubbed his arms for warmth.

“What’s going on?” he asked the trio.

“No time to explain, just stay out of our way,” Lena growled.

“Lena’s father got corrupted by her aunt’s magic, and we think he’s heading for Uncle Scrooge,” Dewey said, and Lena rolled her eyes. Sure, if you wanted to put it that way, it sounded simple. 

“As I said, you should stay out of our way,” Lena growled, and they rushed forward. 

The good news, if it could be deemed that, was that while McDragon Manor had many magical wards about it, the most were concentrated on Scrooge’s bedroom. Poe stood outside, teeth bared, and pounded on the door. 

“Uncle Scrooge, don’t open it!” Webby pleaded.

“I’m old, not stupid!” Scrooge retorted. “What in Dismal Downs is going on out there?”

Lena swallowed back panic. She was the only one who knew how to use arcane magic, and she didn’t have the first clue about it because she’d spent all of her time ignoring her aunt’s lectures. Well, that hadn’t come back to bite her in the ass at all. 

Webby filled Scrooge in while Lena ran through the gamut of what she knew how to do. She came up hopelessly bereft. Finally, she cast a glance around her to see whether anything else might spark an idea. Then her eyes settled upon a sword. 

Raising it above her head, she ignored Dewey’s and Webby’s surprised cries and brought the pommel down on her father’s head. He staggered, and she did it again. Another blow brought him to his knees, and a third knocked him out cold. Lena panted, hardly believing what she’d done.

Cautiously, Scrooge opened the door, and Goldie whistled behind him.

“That’s one way to solve a problem,” she said approvingly. 

“We need to tie him up and keep him restrained,” Webby said.

“If it’s enough,” Lena said, with a strong suspicion it wouldn’t be.

Footsteps alerted them to someone else’s progress, and Lena’s first thought was, _Oh, what __**now**_? 

A woman she didn’t recognize and a dragon she did hurdled around the corner and materialized, the woman panting and magic sparking at her fingertips. Lena was instantly on guard, and everyone assumed an offensive position, except Goldie, who just looked amused. Lena rolled her eyes at the older woman.

“I see we got here too late,” the woman said and then looked at Lena. “Are you his daughter? Lena de Spell?”

“Lena Vanderroar Dragon,” Lena corrected automatically. To her shock, the woman embraced her before Lena had a chance to push her away.

“My name is Morgana Macawber. I’m your mother.”


	9. Chapter 9

Her first reaction was incredulity. For one thing, this could not have come at a worse time. And if she had a mother (of course she had a mother, everyone had a mother and a father), why hadn’t she bothered to show her face around here before? This Morgana could have spared Lena so much grief if she’d rescued her from Magica’s clutches beforehand. Unless she didn’t know she’d produced a viable egg, which was possible, though Lena thought the chances of that were remote. 

Webby reached for Lena’s hand, and Lena took it, though, to her consternation, she couldn’t feel it. She seemed to be watching the scene from outside of herself as if it were happening to someone else. Dewey seized her other hand, and Morgana watched the trio. Poe was temporarily forgotten.

“I was expecting something a little more than a blank stare,” Morgana confessed, and then more footsteps sounded. The trio whirled, moving as one despite not being able to feel each other in the Bond. Lena thought the man looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him. Morgana sighed.

“Dark, I told you to wait outside,” she said impatiently.

Black wisps flew off his body, and Lena tensed. Dark magic. What was she doing, letting someone tainted like that into the manor? Scrooge, Dewey, and Webby likewise assumed offensive positions. Only Morgana and Goldie remained still, Goldie with a gleam in her eye suggesting she’d let this play out before moving forward. Lena felt a brief flash of loathing for the woman, but her emotions toward Morgana eclipsed it.

“What do ye think ye’re playing at, bringing a tainted dragon into my house?” Scrooge demanded. Lena nodded mutely in agreement, her throat too tight to speak. She wasn’t sure what she’d say if she could speak, anyway. 

“He’s not tainted,” Morgana argued. “I had to siphon off the dark magic somehow. It’s in his aura, but he’s not a darksider. I swear.”

“Convenient that the only other person who can corroborate your story is unconscious, then,” Scrooge scoffed.

“You believe me, don’t you?” Morgana pleaded with Lena, who scoffed.

“All I know is that as soon as you three showed up, I stopped being able to feel my Bondeds and shit hit the fan,” Lena retorted. “You’d better start making sense and fast.”

“These must be Webby and Dewey,” Morgana said. They stared back at her, and Lena was proud of how cold Webby’s gaze was. Neither had released Lena’s hands. Dewey looked curious, but then again, his mother had abandoned him, albeit not intentionally. Was this the same case? Ought Lena to give Morgana some slack? Maybe, maybe not. The timing seemed too coincidental for her.

“Can we not talk in the middle of the hallway?” Scrooge snapped, interrupting a staring contest between Lena and Morgana. Lena smirked. She’d been winning. Morgana looked away first. Perhaps in a past life, Lena had been a cat. Or a large dog.

“I’ll even help you dispose of the body, er, lock him up where he can’t hurt anyone,” Goldie said and ignored the dirty looks she got. 

“You mean help yourself to his wallet while you’re at it,” Scrooge reprimanded.

“Hey, a little charity never hurt anyone,” Goldie said. “And besides, he’s not going to need it. He’s unconscious.”

Lena rolled her eyes. No wonder she and Louie got along so well. They were too alike. Lena was glad that there was no one Louie’s age that skilled with grifting or Louie probably would’ve hooked up with her, especially if she looked like anthropomorphized money. 

“Where’s Beakley?” Scrooge said. “I’d trust her much further than I’d trust you.”

“I’m hurt, Scroogie,” Goldie said, pouting. “You mean to say after all that we’ve been together, that you still don’t trust me?”

“All of that is _why _I don’t trust you.”

“And yet you’re going to Bond with me anyway,” Goldie said, smirking, incorrigibly smug. “Now who’s losing their marbles?”

“It’s not like ye gave me any choice!” Scrooge countered.

“Okay, hello, can we get to the real problem?” Lena called, cutting through their argument. “You can do your old married couple arguing routine later when we’re not having a crisis.”

“Though she could have put that better…” Morgana said, grimacing at the dirty looks Scrooge and Goldie had given Lena, “I agree with the sentiment. We need to sit and talk about this.”

“And what about Darkwing Dragon?” Scrooge asked.

“I’m not old,” Goldie sniffed. “I’ve matured, like a fine wine.”

“Or a bottle of rotgut,” Scrooge muttered, and Goldie elbowed him hard in the ribs.

That explained why the man had looked so familiar to her. She recognized Darkwing Dragon now from Launchpad’s fixations and publicity shoots from St. Canard. What was Darkwing Dragon doing with her mother, if Morgana was indeed her mother? Didn’t she have any loyalty to Poe? Of course, that was ridiculous. Why should Morgana pine after someone that had been a raven for Lena’s entire life? Lena wasn’t thinking rationally.

“I’ll go get Granny,” Webby volunteered. “Lena can help. Right, Lena?”

Her first thought was to ask why Webby needed her, and then she decided to go with it. Webby wanted to speak with her in private, and the telepathy between them wasn’t working. 

“You might want to come too, Dewey,” Webby said. “In case we get lost.”

“Why would you get lost?” Dewey asked. “You’ve lived here your whole life. You know the manor better than I do.”

Webby stepped on his foot pointedly. “In. Case. We. Get. Lost.”

“Oh, right…” Dewey said, acting as if it had dawned on him. Lena could tell he didn’t have the foggiest notion why Webby was doing this. “Sure. Because of that thing. That’s blocking the other thing. Right.”

Scrooge groaned, facepalming. “It’s a good thing the lassies know what’s going on.”

Webby yanked Dewey and Lena along. They rushed down the hall until they were out of earshot of the adults. Lena wished she could speak to the others via telepathy. It felt like her head was stuffed with cotton or like she had static in her brain. Her chest ached from the dark magic, and she resisted the temptation to rub it. Her eyes swam, and, to her consternation, she discovered she was shaking. This was too much to take in.

Her aunt had corrupted her father. It wasn’t bad enough that she’d robbed Lena of a decent childhood, but now she was taking away someone Lena hadn’t even had the chance to know. Moreover, her mother had appeared out of nowhere and expected what? For Lena to embrace her with open arms? Add to that her sudden inability to sense her Bondeds and the terror she might lose them and…

“Lena, breathe!” Webby said, alarmed, as Lena discovered that she was hyperventilating. 

“Do you need a paper bag?” Dewey asked, anxious. “I can go get one!”

“We’re supposed to be getting Granny,” Webby scolded. She rubbed Lena’s back. “Shoosh, it’s okay. We’re here for you. We love you. You’re safe. Breathe, Lena.”

“If you’re here, why can’t I Feel you in the Bond?” Lena cried, and her lower lip quivered. Webby hugged her tightly, fiercely. Lena hugged her back. 

“Should I…?” Dewey looked tremendously awkward, and under any other situation, Lena might’ve laughed. Now, however, she was far from laughing. She could barely breathe. Spots appeared before her eyes, and she willed herself to calm down. She needed to calm down. This wasn’t tenable. A sob escaped, and she shook her head at herself. Weak. She was weak. Her aunt would monopolize on it, and she’d never escape, never be freed from the hell Aunt Magica had in store for her…

“Lena!” her Bondeds cried, both alarmed now, and Dewey embraced her too. It was difficult to cry while you hyperventilate. Crying required deeper breaths than she was capable of right now, and her head spun. She was getting dizzy and light-headed.

“Shoosh...we love you. You’re safe,” Webby said and repeated it over and over. Lena’s knees weakened, and she would have fallen over if not for their support. Gradually, either by the sound of Webby’s voice or the quiet reassurances, she didn’t know, Lena’s chest eased, and she could breathe again. Webby stroked her hair.

“See?” Webby said. “You’re all right.”

None of them had gone to fetch Mrs. Beakley. That remained a distant concern to Lena, but she didn’t feel capable of rushing to find the housekeeper. Webby guided Lena to a nearby ornamental bench that was probably worth more than Lena had seen in her lifetime and jerked her head at Dewey. It took her several attempts for him to get the gist and rush off to locate her grandmother. Once he’d gone, Lena shivered, goosebumps all over her body, and her stomach clenching.

“We’re not going anywhere. We’re never going to leave you,” she assured her.

Lena hugged Webby tightly. She’d endured so much pain and heartbreak to be close to her. For a minute, they sat there, Lena’s heart rate slowly returning to normal. She couldn’t stop clutching Webby, though, and Webby didn’t seem to mind. 

“I love you too…” Lena whispered. “So much.”

“I know,” Webby said and smiled, resting her chin on Lena’s head. “You beautiful angel.”

Lena rolled her eyes at the pet name but relished the rush of warmth that she felt after hearing it. She and Webby lapsed into silence again and waited for footsteps. When they arrived, Lena and Webby sprang apart, though Lena was still holding onto Webby’s arm. 

“Are you all right, Lena?” Mrs. Beakley asked. Lena touched her cheeks and realized her tears had left trails.

“I think so,” Lena said, which was far from a definite answer. Mrs. Beakley frowned.

“Dewey’s filled me in,” Mrs. Beakley said. “I have a few questions for our new guests.”

She surveyed Lena critically. “Are you sure, dear?”

Lena shrugged. “Everything’s gone to hell. Not like things can get much worse.”

Mrs. Beakley’s expression darkened. “Oh, don’t say that. You’ll tempt the fates.”

* * *

It turned out the royals had accommodations for people they didn’t want to stay in the palace, but couldn’t risk mingling with the local population. Huey couldn’t help but feel they were ashamed of them, but it wasn’t something he was eager to debate. Thus far, the princes had been magnanimous enough, even if Huey suspected ulterior motives. While Huey wanted to believe that some people acted out of the goodness of their hearts, a lifetime of dealing with Louie had taught him otherwise. Some people were in it for their own selfish desires. 

At least this place was better than where the rebels had put them up. They had also been given the run of the town, though Huey also suspected they’d had spells cast upon them to prevent loose lips. All they needed to do was mention the princes, and their tavern tab was paid for. It appeared that even Stefanovik, the ostracized prince, carried a lot of clout. 

Huey was tired, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until they’d explored. Being under the princes’ protection also meant that no one would dare tangle with them. They wore the royal crest affixed to robes on their chests, which granted them respect too. After reassurances that they’d be able to come and go as they pleased, Huey and Violet had left the tavern to explore the town.

Seeing as they’d been terrified before, he hadn’t had much of an opportunity to make observations. Now it was different. Now, he and Violet walked hand in hand down the street. It looked like an old medieval city, complete with the smells that accompanied every city and a few people busking on the street corners. The city itself was like a wheel; all roads led to a central market, and the streets were like spokes on the wheel. Once you entered the lower-income district, however, the analogy fell off. These were people at the base of the hill, not ascending toward the central market, and as a result, they got short shrift.

The palace was above the central market, on a mountaintop. A long set of stairs led to the wall that surrounded the city, and, from there, one ascended the wall, past gates, and sentries, to enter the palace proper. Huey thought it was a bit pretentious, but who was he to judge? He lived in a manor with the richest dragon in the world.

The fact that there were so many things to do and see threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to write everything down in the JWG and record it for future reference. At the same time, he wanted to think about what the princes had said about himself and Violet and that they were holding hands right now. He also worried about what was going on in Dragonburg and its neighboring towns, since they hadn’t been able to check before getting sucked into a wormhole. Then he worried about Louie since he’d fallen prey to Doofus once before…

In short, Huey was a bundle of nerves. Dewey took things as they came and then panicked when they didn’t work out. Louie saw the angles and planned accordingly. Huey liked everything nice and predictable. There was nothing predictable about the predicament he was in. His chest tightened, and he throttled panic. He wasn’t going to freak out. Not in public, not while holding Violet’s hand, and mainly not appearing as an emissary for the princes.

From what the princes had explained to him, the royal crest only appeared to people who knew how to keep their mouths shut. The princes didn’t want word getting back to the empress that they were hosting outsiders, as it would lead to awkward questions. So it’d been glamoured to look like something else to anyone with ill intentions or their mother’s spies. Then again, from what Huey had been able to glean through unintentional eavesdropping, the empress was the type to kill the messenger.

Man, this was a thoroughly unpleasant world, politics-wise. He did not want to stay here any longer than he had to.

But when he returned home, what was waiting for him? Could he be with Violet? Or had the darkness eclipsed their world? What, exactly, had happened while they were gone? Was his family all right? 

“You’re about to walk into a streetlamp,” Violet reprimanded, and Huey startled. He had the sense she must’ve been warning him for some time, and he hadn’t heard her.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepish as they sidestepped it. 

“You’re also missing out on the sights,” she scolded. Huey wrinkled his nose--he’d been missing out on the scents too, being too deep in thought to notice, but now that he had returned to the here and now, the smells were at the forefront. 

“I can’t help but worry about what’s going on in Dragonburg,” he confessed.

“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” she reminded him. She swung their hands together, and his heart skipped a beat. “And there’s no sense in worrying about what we can’t control.”

He nodded. He agreed, but what was that saying? _“I say ‘no worries’ a lot for someone who has a lot of worries.” _

“I know, but…” he protested, unable to come up with a decent argument. It didn’t matter. She pinned him against a wall of a nearby alley and then kissed him. Pleasantly surprised, he kissed her back. She smirked when she pulled away.

“And now you’re not worried about that, right?” she said. He gawked. 

“Works every time,” she said and shrugged. They exited the alleyway and looked about them. Night had fallen over the city, but it remained very active. It was only about eight o’clock, after all. This deeply into Vorschia, none of the seedier elements were evident, but on their ascent, Huey had glimpsed what he thought were brothels. He hadn’t mentioned them to Violet and hadn’t wanted to venture a peek, either. He was too prudish for that, even if he hadn’t come with a girl.

Up here, there were theatres, bookstores, expensive restaurants, and parlors. There were also fine hotels, in addition to upscale taverns. Suddenly, the pittance that the rebels had given him seemed like just that--a paltry amount that would get him nowhere. Then again, the princes _had _said to put everything on their tab…

But wouldn’t the empress notice? Or was she obvious right now due to the rebel threat?

“You’re overthinking things again,” Violet said.

“How do you know?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“You have that look in your eyes,” she informed him. “Now...I see an antique bookstore that may contain interesting historical tomes about this land. Wouldn’t you like to find out more?”

“Would I?” he exclaimed and practically leapt at the chance. They dashed toward the bookstore, as there were no calmer minds (i.e., Louie and Dewey) to tell them they should start elsewhere. They entered the musty old bookstore (Huey loved the smell of old paper) and quickly lost themselves in the racks. Huey could spend the rest of his days here and never grow tired. He knew Violet felt similarly. Books were life.

He grabbed a stack of books and settled into an equally dusty armchair to pick over his selection. Another armchair beside Huey was quickly occupied as Violet put down her stack. They lost themselves in words--it appeared there were many different languages represented in these books, but only the draconic tongue was close enough to English. The faerie language looked like Cyrillic. 

For hours, they sat there, reading, occasionally exchanging anecdotes as they came across something entertaining or enlightening. Two hours later, the merchant appeared from a backroom to announce the shop was closed. They paid for their purchases and left with giant bags nearly full to bursting. Huey was so psyched to read more. 

After everything they’d gone through, this place wasn’t that bad after all. He wondered whether the princes were having any luck restoring them to Dragonburg. Huey was sated with both words and food; Violet felt similarly. They were safe, they had enough excitement to last them a while, and while the threat in Dragonburg was probably still imminent, there was nothing Huey could do about it now. 

He had to hope that the others could handle it. With that in mind, as Huey had always wanted to sample fine wine and prove himself mature, they dined out at an expensive restaurant. Then, they slipped into their tavern, temporarily home base, drunk on both words and wine. They tiptoed to their room, left the books in neat piles on the writing desk, and stayed up late talking. 

Consummating the Bond was more than just physical intimacy. Even without that, Huey and Violet needed to know each other inside and out in a secure location. And now, at least for the time being, they could do just that.

* * *

“If you’re my mother,” Lena challenged, arms folded across her chest and staring at Morgana with hostility, “then where have you been?”

They were seated at the dining room table for a late-night snack, and Morgana was opposite Lena. Dewey and Webby flanked Lena; Darkwing and Poe had been left in a magic proof vault for the time being until Morgana could sort this out. She was exhausted, and she knew she ought to take it easy, but she had to talk to Lena and straighten her out first. She didn’t want her daughter to hate her.

“I didn’t know I was your mother until this afternoon,” Morgana protested. “Your father never told me.”

“You knew you laid an egg, but you didn’t do any follow-up on it?” Lena asked, skeptical. 

“Poe vanished after our one-night stand,” she replied. “And from what I’ve gathered, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist a few years after that.”

Lena bristled and muttered, “Thanks to dear old Aunt Magica.”

“I had no idea that I had laid a viable egg,” Morgana protested. 

“And you didn’t think it was suspicious that my dad wanted the egg even if you didn’t know whether it was fertilized?” Lena said. She still hadn’t unfolded her arms from her chest, and Morgana wasn’t about to call her out on it, even if it did feel like her daughter was blocking her out.

“At the time, I was distracted by my family telling me what an awful choice I’d made and trying to drum him away,” Morgana said. Lena raised her eyebrows.

“You expect me to buy that?” she scoffed. 

“An enemy agent impregnated my mom,” Webby said, slamming her hands on the table. Everyone’s gaze shot to her. “He knew about it and tried to steal me back. And you’re telling me that you didn’t realize what had happened after a one-night stand?”

“Webby…” Dewey said weakly. “Maybe now isn’t the time for this.”

“Now is the perfect time for this!” Webby snapped. “How dare you leave Lena alone! Do you have any idea what Magica put her through?”

“I...no...I don’t,” Morgana replied. “Poe never saw fit to tell me. I was under a lot of pressure at the time.”

“She abused her--” 

“Webby, that’s _enough_!” Lena cried. She was shaking too, and her face had gone white. “I don’t want her to know.”

“But...why?” Webby said, looking surprised and concerned.

“Because she could have prevented it if she’d bothered to check on my father. She doesn’t deserve to know what Aunt Magica put me through.”

Morgana glanced from one woman to the other. Webby was dealing with her own abandonment issues. That wasn’t her primary concern. Webby had said that Lena had been abused. How? To what extent? Just because Morgana couldn’t see the marks didn’t mean they weren’t there. Some things remain invisible to the naked eye. 

“Don’t you want her to know?” Webby continued in a quiet voice. 

“No,” Lena snapped. “What difference does it make? She wasn’t there to stop any of it. I could’ve died or had permanent brain damage. She probably wouldn’t have stopped it even if she was there.”

Morgana’s heart fell into her stomach. She felt sick. So Magica had been torturing her daughter mentally. She rushed over to the other side of the table and encountered a magical barrier. Lena glowered.

“I don’t want your pity,” Lena spat. “I want you to help me fix this.”

Shaken, deeply worried about Lena despite what she’d said, Morgana swallowed back the lump in her throat. “What do you need me to do?”

“That’s better,” Lena said. Webby grabbed her and whispered frantically into her ear. Lena shook her head, and Webby continued. It was odd that their telepathy wasn’t working. If anything, it made the trio more agitated. Lena was on edge, her magic making the lights flicker. Webby grabbed Lena’s hands and held them. 

“We need you to work with us,” Webby said, intertwining her fingers with Lena’s. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Morgana replied. “Lena, are you--”

“Never better,” Lena spat. “Let’s begin.”

* * *

She didn’t trust her as far as she could throw her. The worst part was that she wanted to believe her badly. She wanted to feel like she had a mother at long last, especially after losing her father again. She didn’t know whether the loss was permanent or not. They also had other concerns beyond her family. 

It was just that for a while, she’d dared to hope things could be different. That was what you got for hoping. Then again, she’d gotten Dewey and Webby out of the bargain. She didn’t know what to think, but at least she had people she could trust here. If only she could feel them in her mind again…

She wanted to draw Webby and Dewey aside and kiss them until she felt better. There was no time. They needed to pore over the books and see whether they could ascertain how to bring Huey and Violet back, along with fixing this mess. But she was tired, her defenses were lowered, and when Webby excused herself for another book, Lena followed. 

“Are you okay?” Webby asked once they were out of earshot.

In response, Lena scooped her wife up (it never failed to amaze her that Webby remained shorter than her) and kissed her hard on the lips. Webby melted, reciprocating gladly and hugging her to her. The book was forgotten if that hadn’t been a pretext. Lena luxuriated in the feeling of Webby’s soft lips against her own and the way her curves aligned with Lena’s. Maybe they could let the others work on this problem for a while…

Webby broke off the kiss, and before Lena had a chance to protest, she nipped and sucked on Lena’s neck. Lena’s breathing grew ragged, and her knees got weak. They could ‘borrow’ Dewey and take this to the bedroom, get Webby’s grandmother and Scrooge to help out instead, possibly.

((I love you.))

It was the first telepathic message Lena had received all night, and it was enough to make her melt too. She scooped up Webby and headed for their suite. To hell with it. Let the adults handle the mess they’d made. 

Seeing as their telepathy was working, albeit the sensations feeling weaker than they had before, she beckoned Dewey silently. He could come up with whatever excuse he wanted, so long as he joined them. 

((I love you too, pink,)) Lena whispered into Webby’s mind. Whatever Morgana had been doing must’ve been working. And Lena wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, not unless it was a kelpie. 

Webby kissed her on the lips again, and, at this rate, Lena wasn’t going to make it to the bedroom. 

“Pink…” Lena panted, swaying and nearly missing a step. “Wait until we--”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. Webby scooped Lena up as if the older girl weighed nothing, and, with Dewey in tow, they headed for the bedroom. Considering all that had happened tonight, this ought to make things better. She could feel Webby’s heart against hers, and she wanted her so badly that, again, she was aching with it. 

And she was finally hers. Hers and Dewey’s. But, hey, at least she’d gotten what she’d wanted, albeit in a round-about way. She wasn’t complaining. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter. I wrote all of it today, almost 4k words. Woot. I stopped it here because one, I can feel myself tiring and two, I don’t want to end it abruptly.

Morgana sifted through the de Spell magic book that Scrooge had offered her. Lena and her Bondeds had fled to their bedroom, probably to calm Lena down. She wished that her appearance hadn’t precipitated such an alarm. Moreover, she wished she hadn’t needed to tie Poe up. However, it was too dangerous for the male dragon to wander about McDragon Manor unaccompanied, spewing dark magic as he went. The same could be said for Gladstone, whom she hadn’t brought into the manor but who was lying on the grounds and restrained like a common dog. She hated that too.

She hadn’t told Scrooge that Gladstone was here. He wasn’t, not really. From everything Poe had said and her observations, Gladstone was a husk. He would never regain his sanity or any semblance of self. The best thing to do and, indeed, what might be the only option, might be to put him out of his misery. Unfortunately, she was wary of suggesting that. She didn’t NJ need the McDragon/Dragon family up in arms.

A formidable woman, Scrooge’s bodyguard, entered the room and trailing her were Webby, Lena, and Dewey. Lena seemed more relaxed than she had before, though her mental barriers were still up. Even without testing, Morgana knew that the Bond was subdued between Poe’s influence, Gladstone’s severed Bond, and her own Dark’s blast. Gladstone’s presence outside was what had short-circuited Lena’s Bond, but it would be restored once Gladstone was dealt with. It was only temporary, thank the gods.

Mrs. Beakley watched Morgana closely. Donald Dragon and his twin Della entered too. Morgana couldn’t help but feel outnumbered. She had bound Darkwing and Poe in the same room off from the foyer, though she hated that she’d needed to do so. Her only allies were incapacitated. Morgana was used to standing on her own, not that she liked it.

The book told her nothing; she suspected that it needed to be read by someone with de Spell blood. Otherwise, the letters swam before her eyes and refused to make any sense. She sighed, pushing the book aside for the time being. Lena was watching her with her eyes narrowed. 

Under so much scrutiny, Morgana couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. Her skin crawled, and she swallowed hard. Everyone was waiting for her to speak and make a significant announcement. The truth was, she had something she needed to say, but she didn’t want to cause everyone to jump down her throat after she’d said it.

There was no point in postponing the inevitable. It wouldn’t make it any more palatable. It was the obvious solution, but it must not have occurred to any of them because they were too close to the problem.

She cleared her throat and winced when their gazes grew sharper. Her hands shook, and she swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Gladstone and Poe are cloistered in a room off the foyer,” she started. Her mouth had turned inexplicably dry. 

“Is he okay?” Dewey burst out, and Lena’s lips pressed tightly together. Webby placed a hand on her husband’s arm to help ease the sting of what Morgan’s had to say next. Dewey ignored her. 

“Lad…” Scrooge said, looking to the others for assistance. 

Morgana wracked her brains, trying to come up with a diplomatic way to say it. “I’m sad to say that he’s in a bad state.”

“He’s a husk,” Lena said, saving Morgana the time of talking around the issue. Louie joined them and sat beside his older brother. The room was getting crowded, and Morgana caught herself before searching for the exits. She swallowed hard.

“If he goes...does Magica follow?” Webby asked.

Lena’s gaze went askance, staring at the hardwood table in front of the couch. She was torn and bit her lower lip. On the one hand, Magica was family, no matter how badly she’d treated her. On the other, Magica  _ had  _ treated her terribly, from everything Morgana had heard. She must have felt guilty for wanting her permanently out of her life.

Morgana sighed. “Yes. That they’ve survived this long is a testament to how powerful a sorceress Magica is. But it’s not tenable. Death always follows insanity. It’s just that this time, Magica’s corruption spread before the inevitable result.”

“But we can save him, can’t we?” Dewey burst out.

“Dewey—“ Webby started, distraught. 

“There’s nothing left to save, lad,” Scrooge said heavily. “We’ve known this from the beginning.”

“Why the hell is Magica still aware of everything, and Gladstone isn’t?” Dewey burst out, indignant. 

“Because she tethered her magic to mine,” Lena answered, discomfited. “I won’t die when she does, but she won’t be pulled into the abyss until Gladstone is. That’s what you’re telling us, isn’t it?”

She directed this last question at Morgana. Evidently, she didn’t feel comfortable using “Mom” or calling her by her first name. They could iron out the wrinkles in their relationship later, once this fiasco was fixed.

“That’s exactly it. This book might have a solution that I’ve overlooked, but it’s incomprehensible to me,” Morgana added. Lena seized the book and put it on her lap. Dewey and Webby eyed it like it was a venomous snake about to attack. Lena’s brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages. Morgana doubted she knew what she was looking for. Then again, if one of her Bondeds had an eidetic memory or something close to it, she might be able to scan it faster with their help. 

Morgana studied the trio. Probably Webby. From what little she’d learned about Dewey Dragon, book-smarts wasn’t his strength.

Lena’s shoulders sagged, and she shook her head. She opened the book back up to the front and skimmed the chapter titles. Morgana surmised that it would only be legible to her and possibly her Bondeds, now that they shared in her magic. Unless it was strictly tied to bloodlines. Morgana didn’t know. Blood magic was dark magic and not something she typically dabbled in.

From down the hall, she heard pounding, and she suppressed a sigh. Poe and Darkwing were awake. Gladstone was insensible and would remain so to the end.

“What do you propose?” Scrooge asked warily. Somehow, she thought he’d always known how this would end. One didn’t survive that long in business without developing an uncanny intuition. 

“There’s nothing left of Gladstone,” Morgana said pointedly.

“So? We can bring him back!” Dewey protested. “There has to be something in this book that can help! Maybe you haven’t found the right page! Or the right incantation! Magica wouldn’t have given it to us if she didn’t think it could help.”

“Dewey,” Lena said softly, “the only page she bookmarked…”

Dewey and Webby leaned over to see what she meant, and, with apparent misgivings, Lena spun the book around so that everyone could see it. It was a spell to kill an insane dragon humanely. Morgana’s stomach clenched. Yes, she’d known. 

“But that would kill her too!” Dewey protested. “She’s not suicidal.”

“She tethered her magic to mine…” Lena said, and her eyes widened. “Shit. Gladstone tried to jump into my mind to escape, which he only could’ve done if our magic was so similar that he could slip in. And we’re not related. Aunt Magica is of my blood. If Gladstone dies,  _ when  _ he dies, what if she’s planning something similar?”

That Morgana hadn’t considered. Then again, she hadn’t known that Magica could be so crafty. She was mildly impressed. Not that this helped in the slightest. If anything, it complicated matters needlessly.

“You repelled Gladstone,” Webby reminded Lena. “And with our help, you’ve repelled Magica too. I have faith in you.”

Lena smiled crookedly. “Do you, pink?”

“We’re getting way off-topic,” Dewey objected. “We’re not killing Uncle Gladstone.”

“It wouldn’t be murder,” Morgana said quietly. “It’s a mercy killing. Dewey, there’s nothing  _ left _ .”

“Don’t say that! You don’t know!”

“Aye, she does, lad,” Scrooge said. “So...we should prepare for the worst, then?”

Della burst out with—“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”

“They grew up together,” Scrooge explained at Morgana’s questioning look.

“When he rejected the Bond after partial completion and total corruption, he forfeited his soul,” Morgana said. “That’s my understanding. He broke the Bond worse than Magica had through perversion.”

“So you’re telling us there’s nothing you can do? Or is it nothing you  _ will  _ do?” Dewey threw back at her.

“Lad, ye cannae bring back someone who’s lost their soul,” Scrooge sighed. 

“What about the last wish you have?” Dewey countered. “Couldn’t you use that to bring back Gladstone?”

“That’s not my wish; it’s Goldie’s,” he said. Goldie still hadn’t returned from helping herself to Darkwing’s wallet, and Morgana balled her fists. She would talk with that woman later. Everything had to be later. She hated it. Hopefully, all Goldie O’Gilt was doing was helping herself to Darkwing’s wallet and valuables.

Though why she’d want to touch him with the dark magic hovering over him, Morgana couldn’t begin to guess. Greed, she supposed, superseded superstition.

“And you’d perpetuate the cycle if you restored Gladstone,” Morgana said quietly, so low that at first, she barely heard herself. 

“You’re telling me the only way to fix this is to end him,” Dewey said and folded his arms across his chest. He glowered at her. “I’m not buying it. There has to be another way.”

He looked toward his younger brother. “Well? You’re the one who knows all the angles. Tell me there’s something else we can do.”

“I want Uncle Gladstone back as badly as you do,” Louie said. “But--”

“But what?” Dewey snapped, seizing upon his hesitation.

“I don’t know magic. And besides that, this sounds pretty final. The longer Uncle Gladstone and Magica were together, the worse things got. Maybe we have to let go.”

His words fell harsh on their ears, and Dewey sprang to his feet. His eyes flashed draconic gold, and Morgana suppressed a sigh. This was not going to go well, whatever he had in mind.

“We’ll see about that,” Dewey promised. “I’m going to talk to him right now.”

“There’s no one to talk  _ to _ ,” Morgana argued. 

“You’ll see. You’ll all see,” Dewey snapped and rushed out of the room. Webby hurried on his heels and Lena, glancing at the ceiling as if for salvation, joined them. Nonplussed, Morgana glanced at the adults and Louie. 

“He’s gotta learn the hard way,” Louie remarked. “Don’t say we didn’t warn him.”

“There’s no other way, is there?” Scrooge asked, pained, and Morgana shook her head. “I was afraid of that. He was lost as soon as he started Bonding with Magica.”

“We’ll have to wait for Lena and the others to get back to start the spell,” Morgana said. “I can’t read the book without her or Poe’s assistance.”

“Once this is all over, Poe will be back to normal?” Scrooge inquired, and Morgana nodded. 

“All of the corruption should pass,” she said. 

“But we still don’t know what happened to Huey and Violet,” Louie complained.

“I can help with that,” Morgana promised. Louie’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t believe her. That was fine. In his place, she wasn’t sure she’d believe herself either. 

“All because Magica de Spell was desperate to avoid the consequences of her actions,” Scrooge said and shook his head sadly. “She doomed herself and Gladstone.”

Morgana sat on her hands to resist the urge to rush in after the teenagers. Her presence would be detrimental at this point. They had to find out for themselves, as Louie had said. That didn’t mean it’d be pleasant.

\--------

Lena and Webby held back as Dewey beheld his second-cousin for the first time in weeks. Gladstone was a mess; his feet bled after his shoes had fallen apart. His eyes were blank, and although Dewey had called his name several times, he didn’t respond. Lena didn’t want to be in the room with him; she was only here for Dewey’s emotional support. After Gladstone had tried to seize her mind, she wasn’t exactly keen on the man. She hung back so far that she could’ve rushed out the door on a moment’s notice. Her heart pounded. Too bad she couldn't offer emotional support from the living room.

“If you want to go, you can leave,” Dewey said without looking at Lena.

“We’re here for you,” Webby said, answering for both of them. She offered Lena a small smile and squeezed her hand. Lena squeezed back.

“Uncle Gladstone?” Dewey said and stared into his eyes. They’d turned the lights on, but it hadn’t made a difference. Lena’s gaze drifted from Gladstone over to Poe. He’d ceased breathing black magic, and his eyes slid from Darkwing to Gladstone before settling on his daughter. Lena shivered.

“Lena…” Poe said softly. 

“Lena?” Gladstone asked. It was said in a monotone, and as soon as it came out, she knew Dewey would seize upon it as evidence that Gladstone wasn’t completely gone. But, in Lena’s mind, it sounded more like a reflex, the last instinct of a dying man.

“He recognizes you!” Dewey argued.

“No, he doesn’t, blue,” Lena said softly, hoping to cushion the blow. She waved her hand in front of Gladstone’s face. His eyes didn’t track. When she reluctantly probed his mind, she found more of the same cloudiness she’d encountered earlier with Aunt Magica. His will was gone. In its place was, as Morgana had said, a husk masquerading as a man.

She didn’t know why she could feel his mind when she couldn’t feel her Bondeds, and it was disconcerting. She’d prefer feeling Dewey and Webby in her mind to this blank slate staring vacuously back at her.

Grabbing Dewey’s hand with her other one, she willed himself to see what she did. Gladstone’s lights were on, but no one was home. Or had been for a very long time. 

“Lena…” Gladstone sighed. 

This was creeping her out. She shuddered, and her hands involuntarily tightened on her Bonded’s. She held her ground, no matter how badly she wanted to bolt. 

“There has to be something we can do,” Dewey pleaded. “Some last trick we haven’t tried. Anything. Tell me there’s a way to save him, Lena.”

His desperation reached her dimly through the Bond and pierced her heart. 

“Dewey, I…”

But she didn’t know how to continue that. Dewey jumped on it.

“You know there is. Another incantation. Another spell. Something we haven’t tried yet. Come on. You can’t give up on him.”

“Dewey,” Webby said gently. “It was over the moment Gladstone broke the Bond.”

“No!” Dewey snapped. “I can’t accept that! I won’t accept that! He’s in there, deep down. We have to break him out. We have to drag him out, and once we’ve returned him to normal, everything will be okay. It has to be.”

Lena’s heart broke for him. She stepped back, and Dewey’s fingers tightened until her hand hurt. He was shaking.

“It’s over,” Lena said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“You’re lying!” he threw back at her. “You told us that you used to lie all the time, and you’re lying now. There has to be. I’m not--I can’t--”

His chest heaved with emotion.

“You know she’s not,” Webby said. “The Bond would’ve called her out if she were lying to us.”

“Maybe it’s because the Bond’s not working right?” he said. “If it were working the way it should be, then it would know that she’s lying.”

“The Bond is a magical contract,” Lena said. She was trying to break this gently to him, before he fell to pieces, which she suspected would be soon. “And a magical construct. It only knows when you’re lying because  _ you  _ know when you’re lying. I’m not lying, Dewey.”

“You have to be!” Dewey said and pulled away from the girls. “Why won’t you help? Why are you giving up? He needs us!”

Lena and Webby exchanged stricken looks. This had gone on long enough. Lena gulped and spun Dewey around to face her rather than look at his comatose relative.

“He needs us,” he repeated, stubborn.

“There’s nothing left of him but a shell,” Lena murmured. “You know it’s true. You wouldn’t be arguing so much if you didn’t. You have to let him go.”

“You didn’t let go of Poe!” he accused.

“I did,” she said. “Because I never really knew Poe to begin with. His spirit hadn’t passed beyond the aether the way Gladstone’s has. That’s the only reason the genie was able to bring him back.”

“What Lena’s trying to say is...it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late. It’s never too late. It’s--” Dewey’s voice broke. His eyes shone with tears. “One more trick. One more gimmick. There has to be--there has to be another way--it can’t just  _ end  _ like this.”

“It ended a long time ago, blue,” Lena said as softly as she could. “It’s time.”

Dewey collapsed into sobs and spun around to find his uncle and mother standing behind them. Della wrapped her arms around her middle son, and Donald stared at Gladstone. Though he wasn’t crying, he looked morose.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved with her, you big palooka,” Donald said quietly.

Lena swallowed, her throat tight. 

“We should go back to the living room,” she said in a voice she barely recognized as her own. And, feeling like the weight of the world was on their shoulders, the others followed suit.

\----------

Huey and Violet hadn’t intended for things to end up quite how they had. After a few too many glasses of wine, which had gone straight to their heads, and too much discussion of how closely draconic here resembled English in Dragonburg, they’d tumbled into the same bed. Huey’s head pounded, and he hoped he hadn’t done anything that he’d regret. If anything, the only thing he’d regret would be not remembering what had happened last night. 

Violet’s head was mostly concealed by her hair, and all he saw was one slim shoulder. She rolled over and smiled at him. He could feel her amusement.

((I’ll remember for both of us, okay?)) she promised, smiling. Huey flushed scarlet, and she tossed aside the sheets. She wasn’t naked, as he’d feared, but clad in a tank top and black pants. Perhaps what he’d thought had happened hadn’t. But no, it must have because he wouldn’t have been able to hear her voice in his head otherwise.

Or feel her emotions. On the one hand, that meant they were soulmates. On the other...he buried his face in his hands. This was not how he’d envisioned his first time.

He groaned and then slammed his head into the backboard. He wished a second later he hadn’t, as it exacerbated the pain reverberating through his skull. He’d kill for some aspirin right about now. It probably didn’t help that he had no idea how to treat a hangover, seeing as drinking was one of the topics left out of the JWG. Huey couldn’t remember seeing his brothers drinking either. Lena had, but then again, considering her home life, he almost didn’t blame her.

Violet shifted over to his side of the bed and straddled him. He wanted to protest that he wasn’t in the mood, that he wanted to get his bearings straight first, but she kissed him before he had a chance. He reacted without thinking, which was unlike him. Instead, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he kissed her back. It was strange, but the headache was alleviating.

Bond healing. They  _ had  _ partially consummated the Bond, then. Oh, boy. This would be interesting to explain to Uncle Scrooge and the others when they got home.

“Uncle Scrooge!” he blurted after Violet pulled away so they could catch their breaths. “We need to return to the palace--the princes said they would be able to send us home.”

Violet studied him like a hummingbird and cocked her head curiously. “That’s not until one. It’s only ten a.m.”

Huey flushed deeper. “What did you want to do, then?”

Violet’s grin spread slowly across her face, and he felt honored that she trusted him enough not to conceal her emotions. Then again, at this point, it would’ve been pointless to try. She pushed him gently back into the headboard, and it didn’t hurt as it had before. His heart pounded.

((I have an idea,)) she murmured in his mind.

\-----------

Deborvak grinned wickedly as the two other-worlders approached. The Bond link between them hummed, and he knew that they’d taken the first few steps toward consummating it in entirety. He was proud of them, and he decided, because Huey, in particular, looked embarrassed, that he could forego the usual teasing. Besides, the duo looked nervous, even if Violet was doing her utmost to conceal it. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to accompany them?” Stefan murmured. They had found a small room near Deborvak’s study and blocked it off for all servants or pesky family members. It was magically sealed against intrusion except for Huey and Violet and would be soundproof once they entered and closed the door. Deborvak’s heart pounded between his ribs. They’d be in for far more than a drubbing if they got caught.

“Would you?” Deborvak threw back at him.

“I haven’t made up my mind,” Stefan said, and Deborvak looked at him with a pained expression.

“You wouldn’t leave me to the wolves, would you?” he asked.

“No, of course not,” Stef said, though he said it with more distraction than conviction. 

Deborvak was holding two talismans on necklaces for the duo. Once they entered, he waved his hand, and the wind blew the door shut. He held up the talismans.

“These will protect you from the dark forces, at least to a small degree. It’ll create a magical barrier between you and them, but that’s only for short-range attacks,” he warned. “Long-range attacks can’t be stopped by these. Be careful.”

“Are you sure you can’t help us?” Huey asked, and Deborvak, without even thinking about it, eased his anxiety. 

“You don’t need my help. More to the point, I’ve never heard of the type of magical corruption you mentioned and wouldn’t be much help anyway,” he said and shrugged. “Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but we have our hands full here.”

“I don’t get it, though. The Light Federation/the Alliance said that you were all supposed to be corrupt, cruel people,” Huey said.

“Nothing is as black and white as all that,” Deborvak replied. “And also...some of us are hoping to effect change from the inside. If we should live that long.”

Huey scrutinized him, and Deborvak smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Behind the two Tylae princes stood the portal, which blew cold wind into the room. It must’ve been wintertime in Dragonburg. Deborvak grimaced. Blech, he hated winter.

“ _ Are  _ you going to live that long?” Huey asked. 

Deborvak shrugged. “We’ll see, young one. We’ll see. Come on. We can’t keep the portal open forever, and Mother has an invasion force to fend off. She’ll want our--”

He hesitated and sighed, looking at Stefan, “---my input, at least. But, hey, if you want, you can borrow Stef. Just return him before our cousin gets on my case.”

Stefan snorted. “I’m no coward. I’m not running away.”

“We should go,” Violet said and advanced toward the portal. She took the two necklaces from Deborvak. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” Deborvak said and watched as the two departed. The portal closed behind them.

“They’re gonna need it, I fear,” Deborvak said once they were gone from sight. “As will we, I’d imagine.”

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished! Until next “season”, peeps.

There was the matter of Goldie’s final wish. He’d used up two in resurrecting Poe and in restoring Della. However, Scrooge doubted Goldie was that generous. She might love him, perhaps a touch more than she loved gold, but she’d never throw a wish away on Gladstone. It’d be a waste of her time. Nonetheless, the kids were distraught. Huey and Violet had reappeared out of nowhere (and there had been no time to inquire as to their whereabouts) and only the girls seemed unaffected. 

Webby was being pragmatic and Lena was uncomfortable with the whole thing. Violet saw it from an objective point of view, though she was careful about not sharing that with Huey. 

Goldie sat by herself in Scrooge’s bedroom. He’d locked his valuables away, but that meant nothing. They both knew it’d be simple for her to purloin whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She could no longer abscond with it, though. The Bond refused to allow half-measures now and they had set the date of the ceremony already.

He entered the room to find her studying her reflection, though the glazed look in her eyes suggested her attention was elsewhere. She was idly running a hairbrush through her long blonde locks.

He cleared his throat. She paid him no mind and so, he cleared it again. She didn’t appear to notice his presence. Grimacing, he resorted to thought speech; this was something he’d seldom used with her because it felt more intimate than a normal conversation. But one was more likely to notice something if it interrupted one’s thoughts.

((Goldie,)) he said and Goldie startled, dropping the hairbrush onto the dresser. 

“Oh, Scroogie,” she said and shook her head. “You might give me some warning next time.”

“I cleared my throat,” he pointed out. “I wasn’t going to knock on my own damn door.”

Goldie sniffed, folding her arms across her chest. Her gaze was level and shrewd. “This is about Gladstone, isn’t it?”

“And if it is?” he retorted.

She sighed. “Besides giving you another wish would mean you’d get three and I’d get one, which hardly seems fair to me, how is it fair for Gladstone to escape the consequences of his actions?”

He stared back, perturbed. “You’re lecturing me about consequences? You robbed me blind for decades. You’re a hypocrite.”

“I might have robbed you blind,” she pointed out, “but I also wound up Bonded to you, even if it wasn’t completely. Neither of us got away.”

“Aye, that’s true,” he said. Would Gladstone learn if his soul was restored from the anther? Scrooge didn’t think he would. But the kids, including Della, were distraught. Shouldn’t he try to fix this? 

At the same time, this _was _a mess Gladstone had made for himself by starting to Bond with Magica in the first place. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have seen the warning signs. He’d had all the chances in the world to change his mind or stray from his path. 

“Thank you anyway,” he said and Goldie stood, putting her hands on his shoulders.

Her smile was sad. “Not every story has a happy ending. You know that better than most, Scrooge.”

“That I do,” he said. He squared his shoulders and, taking her hand, walked back into the living room with the kids waiting. Lena had the purification spell for afterward in hand, just in case Gladstone’s death didn’t eradicate the corruption, and Morgana had a spell to ensure that Gladstone passed peacefully into the next world. No one was quite sure whether her interference meant Magica would live or die and, judging from Lena’s expression, no one cared very much, either.

His heart was heavy as he looked at the assembled group and then at Gladstone, pinned in place by Morgana’s magic. For the last time, he looked into Gladstone’s eyes. They were blank, the spirit inhabiting his body long gone. He squeezed Goldie’s hand and said, “It’s time.”

And despite the protests, despite the arguments that Goldie could have changed Gladstone’s fate, Scrooge gestured for Morgana to start the incantation. This was inevitable and had been for months now. 

Scrooge knew Goldie well enough to say she had no real goodness of heart when it came to other people. He wasn’t expecting a Hail Mary and Gladstone didn’t really deserve one. But in his heart of hearts, until Morgana finished the spell, he found himself hoping anyway. He was a fool. Whatever came of hope like that, except to be tossed away?

None of the others knew about Goldie’s wishes, as it was between himself, Goldie, and the genie. He had a feeling if they had known, they wouldn’t have forgiven her for this. Scrooge was older and saw things differently. Yes, he was upset with Goldie, but who was to say this wouldn’t happen again if Gladstone was restored? Magica might get her hooks into Gladstone again and this time, make sure her mistake wasn’t repeated. 

Goldie swallowed hard, looking at Gladstone floating above the coffee table. Della and Donald held hands, as did the threesome Bondeds, and, to his slight surprise, Huey and Violet. He told himself that nothing would change if Gladstone was restored. This was what was best for the family. Yet even as he thought that his gaze slid to Goldie. She had the power to change this. Would she?

Morgana stopped, seemingly taking a break between paragraphs. Scrooge knew she’d been intoning Latin, but he hadn’t been following closely enough to tell what she’d been saying. Doubtless Webby knew, as did Mrs. Beakley. 

“Wait,” Goldie said and sighed. She glanced at Scrooge, whose emotions she could feel, and then at the family in general. “I’m going to regret this.”

“Regret what?” Lena asked, eyeing the woman as one might a viper. She’d inherited Webby’s distrust for Goldie.

“Using my last wish,” Goldie replied. “But I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t at least try.”

“You can bring Uncle Gladstone back?” Dewey asked, seemingly untroubled by Goldie concealing that until just now. He bounced on the balls of his heels.

“Why now?” Louie demanded. “Why not before any of this started?”

Morgana’s frown deepened. “Bond magic is older than genie magic, much older. And Gladstone’s spirit has long since left this plane of existence.”

“He brought Poe de Spell back,” Goldie pointed out. She didn’t say that it was a waste of a wish, not with Lena glowering at her. But it’d crossed her mind and she was thinking it loudly.

“Had Poe’s spirit already passed into the great unknown?” Morgana asked, looking puzzled.

Scrooge exchanged a baffled look with Goldie. “I donnae know.”

“It’s once in a lifetime that I’m actually offering to do something that doesn’t directly benefit myself,” Goldie huffed. “Are you going to try it or not?”

“Poe wasn’t gone before he was resurrected,” Lena said suddenly. “He appeared after Aunt Magica attacked and nearly killed me during our Bond Flight.”

She shook her head. “I thought I was hallucinating him back then.”

Morgana stepped closer to Gladstone and her hands glowed. She closed her eyes, hummed, and shook her head without opening her eyes again.

“His spirit has already passed on. It cannot be called back. I’m so sorry.”

“You think I’m just going to take your word for it?” Goldie scoffed. She pulled out a golden feather and waved it around. The genie did not appear if that was what she’d been hoping for. Nothing happened. She waved it harder, looking peeved.

“He will not appear for an impossible wish,” Morgana said softly, still speaking in a hushed tone as if at a funeral. It grated on his nerves, but that might’ve been bleed-through from Goldie’s mood.

“You’re joking,” Goldie said. “My one attempt at altruism and it fails?”

She shrugged. “I tried.”

“There has to be a way to bring his soul back,” Louie said, surprising Scrooge with his desperation. “A spell. Something.”

Morgana swallowed hard and shook her head again. “There might be a necromancer that can raise his flesh after this spell is done, but there is none that can restore a soul that has passed onto whatever’s next. He’s gone.”

“And after what happened with Aunt Magica, I don’t blame him,” Lena muttered and Louie shot her a hurt, angry look.

“You mean we got in the middle of a civil war, almost got killed, and wound up befriending two princes and nothing changed?” Huey asked, aghast.

“We were in another universe,” Violet explained, connecting the dots as Huey had left out some key information.

“Could _they _bring him back to life?” Louie asked. 

“Why would you want to drag someone back when they’re happier elsewhere?” Morgana said and Louie shot her a dark look.

“You don’t know that,” he snapped. 

“You don’t know that he isn’t, either, lad,” Scrooge said. “Morgana, continue the spell.”

“How do you get into that other world? What’s it called?” Louie snapped.

“You’re not going,” Huey replied, implacable as only the eldest can be.

“Like hell, I’m not. Like I’m just gonna leave Uncle Gladstone to his fate,” he snapped.

“I really thought this would be Dewey with the dramatic speeches,” Scrooge murmured in an aside to Goldie, who nodded.

“He’s family,” Louie snapped. 

“Louie’s right,” Dewey said. “If there’s a chance we can bring him back--”

“The corruption will spread. I can only contain it for so long,” Morgana reminded them. “Would you sacrifice your world for the chance at saving your uncle? Throw away hundreds of lives for the possibility of restoring him?”

“When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound that appealing…” Dewey said, wincing.

Louie scowled, staring at everyone. He was alone, outnumbered and outmaneuvered. What was worse was that he knew it. His gaze was accusing, as if they’d conspired against him. Scrooge hadn’t even known Louie felt that strongly about Gladstone. Or was it that the lad was afraid to let go?

“Bringing him there first would only spread the corruption there, if they even have a way to combat it,” Morgana said before Louie could speak.

Louie’s gaze was hot and tears swam in his eyes. He glared at the floor now and pulled his hoodie strings tight to conceal his face. 

“Just do it already, then,” he muttered. “Finish this.”

“I need a little help with the last bit,” Morgana said and held out her hand to Lena. “If you would, daughter?”

“Oh, come on,” Louie muttered.

Lena looked at her hand suspiciously. It was clear she didn’t want any part of this and Scrooge heard the buzz of telepathy between Lena, Dewey, and Webby. With misgivings, she took Morgana’s hand and joined in. Scrooge kept his gaze on Louie, in case the boy did anything rash. 

Della came over and put a hand on Louie’s shoulder. He turned away and hugged her tightly.

After the last syllable had been spoken, Gladstone’s body crashed to the table, neither sorceress having taken the time to cushion the blow nor seeing need for it.

((Do you really think the feather didn’t work or do you think Morgana had a different angle?)) Goldie sent to Scrooge.

((Both,)) he said. Goldie narrowed her eyes at her. 

A dreadful sense of finality hung about the room. Scrooge swallowed hard, looking at his nephew. Luckily, the table hadn’t collapsed. His heart was heavy and, as one, the boys broke away from their significant others or, in Louie’s case, his mother, and slipped away. Webby looked like she wanted to pursue Dewey and Lena looked like she wanted to stop her. 

“Let her go, lass,” Scrooge said quietly. 

“I have to check on Aunt Magica,” Lena announced once Webby had left the room. 

“Ye shouldnae go by yourself,” Scrooge scolded. “Ye know better than that.”

“There’s probably nothing left of her to worry about,” Lena scoffed.

“I wouldnae be so sure, if I were ye.” 

Lena shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t sure if she was being fatalistic or blithely overconfident. Neither one appealed to him. He scowled and raised his eyebrows. She met his glare head-on. Despite everything she’d been through, that lassie was not one to kowtow to authority. He was impressed and distressed at once.

“Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” Lena said in a falsely bright tone. 

“I’ll go with you,” Morgana said.

“You should check on Darkwing Dragon,” Lena retorted. Seeing that no one wanted her to slip away unescorted, she added, albeit reluctantly, “I’ll take Poe. Dad. Whatever. But nothing’s going to happen.”

“I hope you're right, lassie,” Scrooge said and shook his head. “I hope ye know what you're doing.”

Though she was almost out the door when she said it, he caught her replying, “So do I.”

* * *

She was only alive because Lena was. She’d tied her life force to her niece’s and for that, for once, Magica de Spell was profoundly thankful. Gladstone’s death had freed her and someone else, someone more compassionate and altruistic, would have followed him. She wasn’t that foolish.

A portal appeared in her bedroom and she blinked, unable to do much about it. She still couldn’t move or speak without Lena’s presence. She was utterly dependent on her niece and she hated it. What were the odds Lena would stop by and linger, especially after the way Magica had treated her? Ungrateful brat. If it hadn’t been for Magica, Lena would’ve probably drowned or been killed as a child. And good riddance.

A blonde-haired woman with her hair piled atop her head, green eyes, and a wicked grin splitting her face appeared in the portal. Red scales scattered across her cheeks and darkness crowned her. Her long red robes dragged on the floor as she stepped through and her teal high heels slid a little as she moved from the marble tiles of her previous location to the carpet here. She was slim, buxom, and couldn’t have been older than thirty-five. That made her three years Magica’s junior.

She brought with her the equivalent of fresh air and Magica cleared her throat. Amazingly, her body obeyed her. She tried talking.

“And who are you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “What are you doing here, in my bedroom?”

“That’s one way to show gratitude,” the fellow sorceress sneered. “My name is Essere, as far it concerns you. You are not worthy of my true name.”

She stood with her hands on her hips in front of Magica, lying prone on the bed. 

“Get up,” she commanded. “We have work to do.”

“Why should I do anything you say?” Magica sneered.

“Because--” Essere said and the agency Magica had felt, the fresh air, vanished. She fell back against the cushions and could barely breathe, much less move. The woman’s darkness pressed on her chest and compounded her weakness from Gladstone’s betrayal. Spots swam before her eyes.

“That’s why.”

The darkness lifted, at least enough for Magica to breathe and move again. It didn’t fade entirely.

“You are the sole survivor of a broken Bond,” Essere said. “That shouldn’t be possible. You should have died.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” Magica spat. “I needed to hear that.”

“You did,” Essere said. “Because it means I have use for you. Join me and we can destroy the Bond for good.”

She smiled coldly, dimples forming in her cheeks. “Haven’t you always wanted to topple an empire?

“Of course, if you don’t come, you can rot there until your niece takes pity on you. I wouldn’t like to go that route personally, it’s rather pathetic. But it’s up to you.”

Magica glowered. She could tell when she’d been beaten. She pushed herself into a sitting position. “And you can block the consequences of my actions.”

Essere closed her eyes, hummed, and it felt like Magica had been shot in the heart. Gasping, the sorceress doubled over. In time, the sensation faded and when Magica looked down, there was a mark as if an arrow had pierced her breast. 

“Your life force is no longer linked to your niece’s,” Essere said. “It is linked to mine. If I leave without you, you _will _die. Come with me and we will bring down an unjust ruler and her whelps. And maybe, if we have time, I can bring down your whelps too.”

Magica smiled. “Tell me more.”

“You’re about to become very well acquainted with a certain empress Utahnastha and her emperor consort Enrac…” Essere said, beckoning Magica to the portal. Magica followed, leaving Lena to discover an empty room and frantic staff unable to tell her where her aunt had vanished off to.

* * *

Empress Utahnastha was expecting her fourth child and he had already been named--Abraxas. Meanwhile, the rebels moved in closer. The Empress thought she had well-placed spies. What she didn’t know was that these double agents had been revealing secrets for months now. The time would soon be ripe to strike. 

All it would take would be a little ingenuity…

* * *

Louie Dragon refused to take Gladstone’s death in vain. There had to be a way to restore him. After Huey had finished telling them what had happened in Tyrocka, Louie made his own plans. He would either find the genie himself and ask why he couldn’t bring Gladstone back or he would find a better power in Tyrocka to help him. 

Either way, he wasn’t resting until he got some answers. 

When a portal appeared right where Huey and Violet had said it would be, in the forest near the manor, Louie took it. If he ran into trouble, he could always con the princes into sending him back, right? He already had an ‘in’ with them thanks to Huey. He’d play his cards right and he’d win. 

Or he could end up way over his head. But he’d worry about that later. 

* * *

Lena didn’t trust either of her parents. Ending Gladstone might have brought Poe back from the brink, but that didn’t mean she trusted him as far as she could throw him. He would have a lot to prove before she was ready to let him in.

What she worried about more, though, was that she was no longer even remotely linked to Magica. That couldn’t be good. 

* * *

Illiyich slipped through the portal and into the woods. He was the advance scout for the Light Federation/the Alliance. Despite the Elders’ warnings, despite Denalia’s orders, he’d decided to see for himself what this Dragonburg was made of. 


End file.
